


Like a mantis I am praying

by EternalSinner



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU consisting of a mangled mix of Fodlan and our world with a sprinkle of creative liberty, Edelgard finds herself ending up as the least enthusiastic nun in existence, Enjoy my messy worldbuilding resulting in a Victorian style medieval world with magic and Gods, Every human has a crest, F/F, She consistently pisses Rhea off with her rebellious heresy, Slow burn because I needed some set up, Sothis is a well-intentioned but far too sloppy Goddess to be considered responsible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 98,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalSinner/pseuds/EternalSinner
Summary: In a world where a person's Crest is considered to be the most important representation of ones soul, personality, divinity and magic Edelgard is born with not one but two non-functional Crest.From her earliest memory people have treated her with suspicion and caution, while this didn't remotely deter her from enjoying her childhood it became an increasingly heavy burden as she matured, her future looking more bleak with each passing year. What if she really is soulless or cursed, as people would often say?A now adult Edelgard worked herself into such a corner her remaining family felt left with no choice but to send her to the Monastery in a last effort of ensuring some kind of future for her, much to the dismay of the Monastery's very weary headmistress as this doesn't stop Edelgard from indulging in her passion for rebelling in the slightest.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Rhea
Comments: 63
Kudos: 154





	1. Prologue- On the seventh day of Genesis the Goddess did not get to take a nap.

It was common knowledge among the people of Fodlan that when the Goddess had first descended upon their land some four thousand years ago her heart had wept when she had witnessed the cursed existence of mankind. Their lives consisted of suffering, trapped in a land which was dry and barren, the ever present scorching heat of the sun relentless. They had been little more than beasts, bound to their bodies and without a soul. They didn’t even possess magic and barely lived to the age of adulthood before perishing without a trace.

But the Goddess had seen the potential deep inside them, their goodness, their ability to grow and how they had possessed just a flicker of the divine in them. And so they had been worthy of her blessing, of her guidance and of her gift of a soul to them.

Sothis always thought that the story sounded very nice –especially when it came to the parts about herself- but really, she had just felt very bad for humanity when she had accidentally stumbled upon them and had tried her best to do her job well.

They also gave themselves much less credit than they deserved.

Even before her arrival they could hardly be called beasts, they had already evolved far beyond that stage and there were already budding cities, with humanity trying their hardest to tame the land and make use of what they were stuck to deal with. They had culture, language and even developed writing.

Even without her there had already been civilization.

But indeed, the lands were not working in their favor. Sand wasn’t very edible to mankind, or useful for anything for that matter. She didn’t quite understand why humanity had decided to evolve themselves into self-awareness in a huge and unforgiving desert, especially considering that halfway across the globe there were much more suitable biomes for their particular biological needs to help them thrive.

But no, they just had to emerge in a desert of all places.

Curse the universe and its damnable ineffability.

The part about her weeping when she first saw mankind was somewhat true. She had truly wept when she realized their average lifespan was under twenty-five years old while the slow and ineffective way they learned things meant each individual barely had the time to make sense of their world before they croaked. How would they ever develop into anything meaningful with such short lives?

She always ended up having to work with the weirdest life forms.

Sothis was but one of many beings of her kind, each with their own large chunk of the universe falling under their jurisdiction, and Fodlan just happened to fall under hers.

And yes, technically the universe was infinite, but the habit of the universe to continuously keep expanding meant that the further their kind ventured from the center the less…Something those places contained and the more… Nothing it consisted of. So Sothis and her kind generally left the parts with more Nothing than Something well alone.

It made them very uncomfortable to be there, if they were honest with themselves.

The universe as a whole was very whimsical despite _supposedly_ being forced to abide to the laws of physics.

And so if the universe wouldn’t listen to the laws of physics and stop randomly creating life on backwater planets the universe would just have to listen to the laws of _her._

This meant that technically she too was but a law of physics in the universe, but that thought always unnerved her.

Instead she preferred to see herself as a voyager, burdened with the responsibility to take it upon herself to give randomly emerging fledgling species possessing at least one of several kinds of higher forms of intelligence, one of them being self-awareness, a helping hand, ensuring they’d actually have a chance to get anywhere meaningful. That was a more noble and dramatic way of wording her actual job description.

There were billions of planets in her chunk of the universe and while the majority of them were devoid of life it wasn’t too uncommon for her to find planets with life. Among those many had very insignificant forms of life, single cellular things and such. She didn’t bother with guiding them but she would always leave a beacon in the center of such planets which would send her a ping should they at some point in time evolve to a level of intelligence that would require her attention.

The beacons would also send her a ping if the life on such a planet would go extinct.

The pings she received were nearly always a confirmation of the latter.

After all, the whims of the universe were harsh and unforgiving.

Still this particular life form had made it impressively far despite their unfortunate circumstances, but they were going to be a handful to handle, she could tell.

The first thing on her list of changes was to extend their natural lifespan. Genetically speaking they already should be able to live well into their eighties but they had so little knowledge of how to feed themselves efficiently (or have access to such a variety of nutrition) while also constantly burdened with suffering under the strain of their environment, which would either rapidly wear down their bodies or just instantly kill them, that they had a hard time getting even a single individual to make it halfway into eighty years old.

She wished they had been something similar to yet another sentient species of sandworms instead. They were already surrounded by a lot of sand, so that would have made things a lot easier for her. She was also very fond of sandworms in general, they tended to enjoy burying themselves deep into the sand, remain dormant for years -if not centuries- while they contemplated the meaning of life until they reached enlightenment and transcendence. That meant they often required very little attuning from Sothis.

But no such luck.

Either way, she went to work and quickly came up with a first draft, which she eventually narrowed down into what she thought was a solid and well thought out plan.

She’d have to make a personal appearance to mankind and introduce her changes gradually.

Just instantly imposing great changes on a species or their surroundings tended to throw them a little off balance, sometimes enough to cause them to go extinct, despite her changes having specifically been designed to make their survival _easier._

But most species simply needed a lot of time to slowly adapt to any kind of change.

They already had Gods which they prayed to, so introducing herself was easy enough. (Sothis always thought it was incredibly uncanny how sentient species tended to come up with the concept of Godhood by themselves, without someone ever telling them of their existence. She often checked several times out of sheer worry if there actually were other species of divine beings besides herself who were actively influencing a particular planet but her checks always came up empty.)

Previous experiences had taught her that casually waltzing in on a civilization and kindly explaining to them that their Gods were actually not real and merely tales they had come up with to make sense of the world around them, but that she right here was actually the very real deal tended not to work and instead she would likely be seen as a demon or false usurper.

Mass mind wiping always made her feel very guilty, so she now tried to do things more delicately, test the waters and such.

It was far more effective to shape herself after the Gods they had already come up with and simply speak to a civilization through their many oracles, divination methods, trances or whatever form of communication they had designed. It was a little troublesome for her that humanity had already grown big enough that they had fractured into multiple different cultures, naturally each with their own Gods, and did not appreciate it if one culture insisted their Gods were more real than another.

So she’d have to work on steadily unifying their many religions. Check.

Monotheism was a far more efficient mouthpiece for her than polytheism anyway.

Alright so she had settled on gradually increasing their natural lifespan with each new generation, stabilizing at an average of about two hundred while simultaneously covertly teaching them how to actually make it that far in accordance with their respective cultures and Gods.

They _really_ needed to unlock their potential for magic as well, though. They already had souls, ones solid enough to make it into the next universe with ease too. But somehow they were completely shut off from accessing any of the mental and metaphysical abilities that usually came with souls and instead solely lived on using their souls as a consciousness to operate and animate their physical bodies.

Very uncomfortable.

Unlocking their magic proved to be very tricky for Sothis. Introducing magic gradually over generations was very unpractical and hard to actually set up correctly. She also couldn’t just make it appear in certain individuals and have it slowly become widespread over the centuries. Creating any form of inequality in terms of power or intelligence in any species nearly always had disastrous effects as among those who had ‘more’ there would always be some individuals who would decide they should just rule over the rest then. Or they’d insist only they were blessed by the Gods. Or worse, insist that they _were_ Gods themselves. The arrogance.

She also couldn’t do something like make a nice place where her budding species could simply travel to and pick up their awesome new magic, something like a divine spring.

Access to that would _certainly_ be monopolized by a lucky select few, thus creating the same problem with inequality all over again but this time deliberate and manmade.

Sothis struggled to come up with a solution with nearly a full five seconds, a new low for her, and came up with no satisfying outcome.

So she gave up and broke one of her own rules and imbue sudden change. Instantaneous magic it would be.

She’d deal with the outfall of the ensuing chaos and hubris as it came.

Which she ended up doing.

With painstakingly slow results, for over seven _very long_ centuries, cursing herself nearly every single day.

At least she had found it in herself to make a half-assed attempt to actually announce the upcoming change mankind was about to undergo. For months she spoke through the voices of every single of their Gods, (those who weren’t outright evil or excessively violent) announcing in various cryptic ways there was to be an important and sacred blessing bestowed on all of mankind, as both a reward and proof of their immortal souls having reached out to the divine.

It was to happen on the winter solstice. Any species with culture tended to really like rituals, especially if they had traceable and recognizable patterns, and humanity especially had a thing for the changing of the seasons and tracking the position of the stars. The winter solstice was already an important day of jubilation for them, as the shortest day would be over and soon they’d be able to start farming again, so she just knew they’d be reassured their fate was in good hands if their Gods would tell them such a thing.

(Except for the few smaller cultures scattered about she hadn’t considered, who had at some point concluded the winter solstice was a Bad Thing instead and so the messages from their Gods that something big was to happen on that night was a very bad omen for them. She had wasted a lot of time and energy spinning her tale into a more positive light to those, suggesting something like that it meant the darkest day was going to be conquered by the Gods.)

She had also been subtly hinting that this imminent divine blessing was part of something bigger than the many smaller Gods the people prayed to, to ensure she’d be able to eventually unify their many religions into one with one all overseeing God. _Her._

Time passed and then the winter solstice was upon them. At exactly the middle of the night (as far as this was possible as humanity had scattered far and wide enough that the middle of the night didn’t happen for all of them at exactly the same moment) every single human on the planet was imbued with her gift of magic, or rather she simply unlocked the potential they always had deep inside them.

It manifested on them in the form of a mark - a small pattern- engraved in their skin which would faintly glow in a color that represented the general type of their magic. There were thousands of unique and differently shaped marks, each having their own distinct and complex aspects the human bearing it would be more adept in, along with a general universal basic magic each mark possessed.

She had made sure humanity didn’t instantly have complete access to the full potential of their newfound abilities. She’d rather not watch them accidentally or impulsively blast one another into oblivion in a fit of emotion. No, they’d have to train, practice and work diligently to develop their powers.

Make an effort you stubborn little creatures.

Sothis had hoped she had put enough pillars in place chaos wouldn’t ensue.

Chaos had instantly ensued.

The stubborn little creatures possessed far more unwavering amounts of free-will than she had taken into account. And so Sothis, now faced with the consequences of her own actions, tried to take responsibility, meaning that for the next seven hundred years she babysat her chaotic little magic wielders, attempting to steer the direction of their development into one of balance, peace and autonomy so she could eventually leave them to their own devices and decide their own future.

Finally she felt she had succeeded. Mankind was prospering, there was peace… mostly, they had gotten more efficient at utilizing their magic and apply the knowledge she had been subtly feeding them over the centuries in actually useful ways, developing more advanced tools and making great efforts to understand every aspect of their planet, including themselves.

They were also mostly monotheistic now, although she had taken care to leave most of their different rituals, believes, forms of prayer and religious days of festivity in-tact, all of those now just applied to various aspects of one all-knowing God.

 _Goddess,_ to be exact. She considered she had at least earned the right to subtly slip her actual name and gender into their religion after her many years of hard work. Gender was a rather humanlike concept, as a God – _Goddess_ \- like Sothis had very little use for physical procreation, but if a deity wanted to get as deeply involved with a species as she did they had to somewhat shape and adapt themselves and their identity in accordance with the species in order to better understand them so they’d actually make sense when communicating with the species.

The only small shadow on her handiwork was that humanity had _still_ found a way to use their magical marks –Crests, as they now called them- as a crutch to establish hierarchy among themselves, having grown to value certain types of Crests over others and using the fact that Crest were along through bloodlines to ensure certain families now held power over many others.

It wasn’t _too bad,_ all things considered. It wasn’t as bad as slavery or forced servitude based on one’s Crest, and neither were some people considered innately superior or more intelligent than others. Mankind was also putting increasingly more value in the research of ethics, basic rights and respect for all life, so she was sure they’d work out the little dents in their civilization by themselves eventually.

So at long last Sothis was satisfied and considered her job well done.

Only one last task remained. One she hated as it was incredibly exhausting and taxing for her to do so but it was custom and her responsibility to do so.

She had to run a thorough check on the future outcome of any species who had reached a stage where they could continue to thrive without her constant guidance. Even if she left the planet her divine presence wouldn’t just vanish from the planet along with her, it would simply be… automated. A program that acted as a constant representation of her will and power.

She also couldn’t simply look infinitely far into the future with complete accuracy either. She wished she could, it would have made her job so much easier, with much less experimenting and guesswork.

No, her power worked more along the lines of a complex formula, she’d enter the variables of the current state of the planet and run a diagnostic analysis of the millions of possible outcomes –most of them usually very similar to each other- if she were to leave them in their current stage of development. This didn’t have infinite accurate reach either, the further into the future she looked the less accurate the results were, but a few thousand years usually were accurate enough. She’d come back after that to see how things were, and occasionally check on them in the meantime as well.

Sothis, with some trepidation, began running her very taxing diagnostic program on Fodlan, math was the language of the universe after all, and waited for the results to come in.

Once they came in a single word consumed her entire being.

_Fuck._

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

Fuck, why was she so shit at her job?

Oh, Fodlan would continue to prosper without her, but absolutely _not_ in a favorable way.

She had considered humans to be somewhat slow in their advancement but apparently she had been very wrong about that.

In her results nearly all of the possible outcomes showed minor variations of a future where in less than three thousand years humanity would have developed weapons which could easily obliterate their own damn planet in a single instant while _also_ already being far past the first stages of developing technology for efficient space exploration.

Or rather, if she looked at how mankind had established their culture at that point in time it would be less consisting of ‘exploration’ and much more among the lines of ‘colonization’

Or just plain ‘conquering’ once they’d start reaching other planets with life.

Yeah, the fellow members of her kind would most certainly _not_ appreciate this. Fodlan might be located in a remote, isolated and backwater place in the universe but it seemed mankind was hell-bent on making sure their kind wouldn’t remain stuck there forever.

She had to do something, she couldn’t leave them like this but she also couldn’t stick around forever.

After some consideration on her part she remembered how she discovered that a common virtue of humanity was that if they were given enough time, space and resources to contemplate their own actions and the effects they had on others they usually made much more levelheaded and ethical decisions. They could be impulsive by nature and were often led by emotions, but if given the time to reflect they weren’t all that hopeless.

So she had to slow their development down somehow. Give them the time to adjust to each new advancement in their civilization and understand the possible impacts they could have.

Alright, she quickly had to conclude that the automated version of her divinity she had planned to leave behind was not working as intended and humans had found numerous ways to bend her blessings to their will and make very creative and efficient use out of them, a little too creative and efficient.

So she opted to leave a part of her with a consciousness behind instead. They would be… her Children. Yes, humanity would like that. Humans liked children.

Sothis took great care in shaping them. She imbued them with an imprint of her will, their purpose to govern mankind in her stead, but also didn’t want to resort to creating a bunch of her personal minions with no mind of their own. To refrain from making that mistake she had made them as human as possible, just more powerful, with an infinite lifespan and slightly more intelligent in several specific ways. They had a somewhat more advanced understanding of how Crests and magic worked, were slightly more flexible whenever they had to quickly adapt to a new situation and were more efficient in accessing and relying on their memories, which eventually would cover of over thousands of years’ worth of living, a human would have started to forget most of it and that just wouldn’t do for the Children of the Goddess.

She had created them all equally and with the same basis but decided to let them fill in most of their individuality. Their appearance and personality, down to details like their preferred foods and colors, were up to them to decide.

Sothis also thought it would be cruel to completely abandon her Children and leave them to their own devices so she gave them some forms to communicate with her even when she would be somewhere halfway across the universe. And she cared about them so she decided she’d do an annual remote mental visit to them –and _only_ them- to simply talk with them and see how they were doing.

She had introduced her Children to mankind as Saints and while they were meant to govern Fodlan she didn’t actually want them to rule over humanity. Instead they’d become the bridge between the Goddess and humanity, advisors, guides who would rely on the faith to strictly supervise the development of mankind.

It was a bit more… oppressive system than Sothis liked to admit, she vastly preferred leaving life forms to be free to decide for themselves what was right or wrong, but humankind possessed such a stubborn kind of free-will they’d either free-willed themselves straight into extinction or would one day free-willed other species into extinction –which was admittedly mostly the fault of Sothis for bestowing them with all those biological and technological advancements and underestimating their creativity.

She held no illusions she’d get anything more than a barely passing grade once she showed her fellow beings the detailed report of her work.

Ah, well.

With some frustration she ran her programming of future predictability diagnostics again. The first time had already made her tired, this time she’d be totally wasted afterwards so she hoped with desperation she had been successful.

Once she analyzed the results she sighed in relief.

It wasn’t perfect but at least it was functional, and infinitely better than the previous results.

Roughly three thousand years from now Fodlan would be mostly stable, even prospering in several aspects. They still hadn’t advanced to the stage of mastering electricity for technological purposes but what they lacked in scientific ways to improve their lives they had substituted with creative use of their Crest magic. They had gotten very knowledgeable and efficient in cultivating the land, ensuring a steady and varied supply of food, which was accompanied with a solid understanding of the nutrition their bodies needed to actually live to the lifespan Sothis had intended for them. There was peace, aside from minor scuffles, and no signs of people subjugating others into inhuman servitude in a consistent manner.

She was surprised to discover nearly all of humanity had remained concentrated on a single continent with one nearby island. There were some small settlements on the other continents but they were all but forgotten by the main continent, and those settlements had mostly forgotten about the main continent –along with its religion- as well.

She frowned a bit at the complex form of sexism present in mankind’s civilizations, she could see how the biological differences between men and women would lead to some different social expectations placed on the two sexes but honestly most of it wasn’t upheld out of necessity but instead out of greed and power. She chided herself when she caught herself thinking that if sexism _had_ to be prevalent she would have at least preferred if it would been done so in the opposite direction, you know, since they all prayed to a _Goddess_ and all _._ But she really ought to be above such selfish wishes.

She noted their society as a whole was surprisingly strict on themselves though, and this phenomenon was present in all of the different cultures. Most of this originated from the various believes stemming from the importance religion held in their cultures and Sothis thought her Children might have taken their task to govern humanity a bit too serious and literally.

When she homed in on what her Children had actually been up to across the centuries –they all carried her essence so they weren’t hard to track down- she had a good laugh. Most of them had stuck around for maybe about fifteen hundred years tops before they had decided it was enough and had promptly disappeared somewhere of into space, or just outright left the entire universe. Yes, she could have expected that from beings who were part divinity and part human. Free-will was such a fickle thing.

To her surprise, and secret amusement, there had been one of her Children in particular who had made a spectacular mess of things. Her son had at some point decided she had been an unjust Goddess and had instigated a rebellion against her, raining down chaos and destruction upon the lands. Seeing as she wasn’t present initially her other Children had ended up heeding their call and waging war against him. Sothis witnessed her future self coming back to Fodlan at some point to just banish him from this realm altogether, leaving his influence on Fodlan diminished to nearly nothing.

She made a mental reminder in her head to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally forget to come back at that point in the future.

After her temporary return and his defeat humanity had started referring to him as Fallen and had begun seeing several things they had the potential to do themselves as sins, and people who did so repeatedly would be condemned as heretics, those who had Fallen as well, with the consequence that their souls would be punished in the afterlife. The fear of having their souls punished caused them to keep themselves –and others- in check with detication, although many of the things they would grow to see as sins were not things Sothis would consider a sin in the slightest. Still, she’d rather not force her will too much on the people.

Around the endpoint of her gaze into the possible futures she saw that five of her Children remained on Fodlan, all of them an important religious figure and a well-known divine being who each ran a different monastery dedicated to provide education at their own monastery, while also ensuring the world remained in balance. Despite them being deeply respected and revered individuals by humanity Sothis laughed when she saw how the relationship among themselves consisted of a lot of well-intentioned bickering. They weren’t just her Children, they were also true brothers and sisters.

Somewhere just before the point in time where she could see the possible future outcomes with reliable accuracy got too distorted to be useful she felt an odd tug in her mind, as if some sort of signal was reaching out to her on her own private frequency. Curious as to what that could possibly be she took a closer look and was surprised and worried to discover that a group of people had begun understanding the nature of what she was more than she had anticipated and they had conducted an experiment which had imbued a human with a fraction of her essence, which had manifested in the form of what would have been her Crest if she had let it be present in humans, along with the Crest that consisted of the genetic magical essence one of her remaining Children on Fodlan carried.

Their experiment had failed though, for the most part, and had severely impaired the process of their research on Sothis as well.

Still she considered it worrisome, but when she looked further ahead of what would happen with the experiment –a human girl- she found her worries soothed. One of her Children –her daughter who, despite having made her home in a very lively monastery, lived an isolated live and was more lonely than she admitted to herself- would get herself involved with the experiment. Or, to word it better, her daughter would grow to be very emotionally attached to the girl that had been experimented on, a young woman by the time her daughter would first meet her.

The young woman carried a lot of potential, along with a fierce personality and unwavering determination, meaning that aided with the power of two Crests inside her which consisted of a magical frequency on the level of divine beings, she could very well one day will herself into becoming a being equal to what Sothis’s Children were, maybe even more. Perhaps she’d end up becoming an actual God in human form.

If that would be a good or a bad thing for Fodlan’s future Sothis decided was something she’d let herself be surprised by and would come back to see the outcome when the time came.

For now Sothis felt she could safely leave this planet, her report was long overdue already.

Also she’d really like a good nap, she deserved one.

But not before handing over the report of her work and enduring the disappointment of her fellow divine beings with shame.

She really did wish she had stumbled upon another race of philosophical sandworms instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sothis is my favorite disaster Goddess who is kind of bad at her job and makes amends by just putting a lot of band-aids on the leaky world she created and call it a day.  
> I had already mostly finished the next chapter, where the main characters actually appear, before deciding I needed a bit more worldbuilding, and ended up with a lot more slightly unnecessary worldbuilding, hence a prologue. 
> 
> Based my little knapsack world on having the lands shaped like Fodlan but with our way of first developing civilizations. So the desert Sothis first finds mankind in would be similar to early Mesopotamia, Ur and Uruk. Which I based on that one cool official picture of Sothis standing on the edge of a giant building overseeing a city that does look vaguely Mesopotamian-like. Added some Christian aspects as the Chruch in Three Houses is really barren when it comes to having any actual content having been written out.


	2. Praying and Preying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd write a twinge of Edelgard's background mingled with some world building but accidentally did a whoopsy and now it's long. Also accidentally gave both her parents an actual personality.

_Considered unmarriageable._

Edelgard mules over the words in her head once again, it’s likely far past the fiftieth time she’s done this in the past few hours. But’s it’s not like she has much else to occupy herself with stuck in this carriage with a chaperone –a glorified guard, really- who won’t respond to any of her questions with anything but one word replies and annoyed glances.

_Unmarriageable._

What is that even supposed to really mean?

It’s been a few weeks since she was blessed with that stamp on her name.

Literally, it’s on her certificate of identification now.

But just what does it entail? Sure, she understands the legal repercussions of it. No priest is going to give his blessing nor his signature for her to be wedded after one look at her identification certificate. But that’s just what laws, rules and legal boundaries do, they impose limits on people, despite all of them supposedly being equal, in most senses of the word.

So Edelgard considers the new addition to the list of legal facts that identify her fairly limiting in terms of even remotely clarifying things to anyone who says it, if not plainly misguiding.

It’s not as if she’s _physically_ unable to marry, or unable to actually do things… things that wives do. She’s not insane either, they haven’t yet found a valid reason to put that particular stamp on her certificate at least. So, surely mentally she’s also perfectly able to get married and not snap.

She still has half a mind to prove them wrong, she knows she has a good chance she’ll succeed in doing so too. Just venture out into the open and travel towards some town, village or just any place where people tend to pile up and gather, go find herself some cute, eager farmhand or one of those slightly dysfunctional, unsuccessful and quirky artist types and woo one with her eccentric and unconventional charms.

Heaven’s knows there are enough people out there who have an appreciation for a freak, a rude woman, a loner, a special snowflake, a heretic, a disgraced noble, a cursed woman, someone with an unusual appearance or the many other interesting little tidbits about her she can’t be bothered to list. She’s pretty flexible too, if she may say so herself. She could be all of those things at once, some of them, just a single one or even something else entirely. It honestly doesn’t seem like something that will give her trouble, she likes to adapt, to reinvent herself, to find her limits and push past them.

Not likely to happen with a farmhand she supposes, they might be a bit… overwhelmed if she gets all quirky, but a weird artist maybe likes having a weird muse or something.

Either way, she’s confident if she were given the chance she could definitely find someone who did consider her marriageable, preferably someone whom she didn’t instantly disliked.

Legal ramifications be damned, she just wants to prove the bastards who gave her that stamp on her name –which they did at least partially out of personal spite- wrong.

She likes proving people wrong, seeing as they usual are.

Sometimes people aren’t wrong.

Still, she likes to prove those wrong as well, if only so she gets to see them stumble and flail around later.

But this time Edelgard isn’t proving anyone wrong, instead she has uncharacteristically given up and is meekly going along with what her family considers her ‘last remaining opportunity for a stable future’. While she doesn’t doubt they had good intentions she doesn’t think they had the best idea when they thought of this, and also knows they’re secretly relieved she will be far away from them and from now on will be giving other people trouble.

While she likes giving people trouble –most deserve it, they give her trouble first- she also genuinely enjoys being helpful, kind and supportive to other people, so any place who would be accepting of her… unusualness and allow her to make herself useful by helping other people does sound like a place she’d enjoy staying at.

But as a _nun?_ Sure, a monastery is a safe haven for people with… troubling pasts or futures, just let the Goddess take them into her open arms and bless them, that kind of thing. But just… _not_ in Edelgard’s case. A monastery is also a place where one’s Crest is involved in nearly every aspect of their lives and Edelgard, even after having religiously practiced for roughly nine years now, still struggles with getting hers to do what she wants, or stop them from doing what she doesn’t want them to do.

Perhaps it’s slightly her own fault her father had been completely convinced a monastery would be good for her, as in her nine years of secretly trying to gain more control over her Crests the one thing she had been most successful in was being able to strain herself long enough to make it _appear_ as if they were perfectly stable and functioning fine whenever someone felt the need to examine them, and even that caused her exertion if she had to keep it up for longer than a few minutes. At least she was now able to make them stop flickering, she could make them glow consistently if she needed to, despite it being incredibly taxing for her to do so.

Maybe if the atmosphere within the monastery was as calm and serene as people made it out to be she’d be able to go along with that mood and wouldn’t accidently set things on fire whenever her red Crests malfunctioned in one of her fits of anger or frustration.

But she had little hope she could hide her secret predicament forever there.

And she also had little doubt that once the people running the monastery would catch on to her malfunctioning Crests the bright future her father was hoping to secure for her there was going to look somewhat bleak instead.

Her future had been looking bleak for some time now, regardless.

If she’s honest with herself, from the moment of her birth her future had never looked all that bright to begin with, at least not compared to that of her half-siblings. Not that she was ever really aware of that during her childhood, her mother had shielded her from any worries not suited for a child as long as she could.

Still, even from a young age Edelgard had known the circumstances of her birth had been less than ideal.

Born with not one but two previously unknown Crests, something which was already completely unheard of but apparently considered not enough of a hardship for Edelgard to start life with as neither of them had been working, just to make matters a little extra worse.

Duds, the doctors and pastors had awkwardly come to call them, as this too was unprecedented and they had no idea what to call such a strange phenomenon when they strained their minds over trying to come up with something.

In other people Crest marks looked like a faintly glowing, clear pattern underneath their skin, with the color determined by the type of Crest. The glow would slightly pulse, in tandem with their heartbeat, with their emotions, their magic, some people even insisted it was in accordance with the soul.

On Edelgard they had looked black. Charcoal black, as if they had been burned out and were made of ash. They didn’t glow either, just thick black lines in the form of a Crest. One in the middle of her chest, just under where her breasts would eventually form, the other on the lower left of her abdomen, right above where her hipbone started.

People had called them a number of things over the years, bad omens, a curse, fakes, tattoos done by her family members in an attempt to proof she wasn’t Crestless.

Being Crestless was considered to be a Very Bad thing. They provided people with magic, blessings, ancestry and determined their worth in terms of what they could pass down to their children. A Crest was an important part of your identity, one couldn’t imagine being without one, they often said the thought alone made them feel empty.

Then there was the persistent belief that Crests were a manifestation of the soul. This, along with the fact Edelgard had also been born with uniquely white hair, lead many people –supposedly composed and rational adults- to the conclusion that the infant Edelgard maybe didn’t have a soul, as if she was some empty husk instead.

This had worried and unnerved her already nerve wracked parents very much.

Edelgard had effectively and singlehandedly smothered all those worries in both her parents as she grew older, because if one thing was evident about Edelgard, it was that she had more personality than what could feasibly fit inside such a small body.

She was stubborn, reckless, intuitive, eager to learn, overly curious, quick with words and would always talk back, even to people she really shouldn’t. These weren’t really considered good personality traits, certainly not whenever she combined multiple at once or whenever she stubbornly upheld them in inappropriate situations, still she took pride in them, in who she was. And they weren’t necessarily bad traits either, she could use them for good. For her own good, for the good of others. As with everything in life, Edelgard needed to balance her personality, figure out when to say or do something and when it was best not to. Like all humans need to learn.

As a child her least favorite personality trait had been that she’d get dreadfully bored and restless if she was left stuck with nothing to do.

Which would mean Edelgard would either find or create something to do, usually to the weary dismay of her parents or her nanny. It would amuse them as well though, and they –especially her mother- had become fairly efficient in reading Edelgard and supplying her with something to obsess over in accordance with her current mood. Which could vary from a book –once she could read, anything she saw as a puzzle to be solved, to any object which her imagination allowed her to turn into a weapon. Sometimes her mother felt like adding some flair to Edelgard’s weapon wielding and would hand her some clothes, old shirts from herself, parts of a costume, or just some leftover fabrics. Edelgard would be utterly delighted and, with the help of some safety pins and clumsy knots, turn herself into one of her many favorite heroes or villains from either religious myths, history or simply from her large pile of story books.

All things considered, from her own childlike perspective, the first sixteen years of her life had been pleasant, safe, normal, exciting -even the adults which gave of an innate aura of ‘ _I don’t like you and yes, that’s solely because of your hair and Crests_ ’ didn’t manage to take away the spring in her step or the shine in her eyes.

She had gradually become aware that strangers, or even some of the acquaintances from her family would sometimes treat her differently, with contempt, with suspicion, their eyes wary as if she’d suddenly do or say something that would either prove their suspicions right or serve as an even greater cause for concern. Sometimes they were subtle, sometimes they were not.

But nearly always they thought they were being subtle, Edelgard had noticed.

It didn’t bother her all that much, there were far too many strangers in the world, even in Enbarr alone for her to consider all of their feelings. Besides, they weren’t her friends so why should she care about their mean feelings to her if she hadn’t actually done anything to hurt them? Her father had taught her that. That if someone tells you that you have hurt them you have to listen and apologize, even if you didn’t mean it, because sometimes people misunderstand each other or accidents happen. She thought her father should teach that to the strangers who were mean to her without her having done anything as well, they seemed to have forgotten it, or maybe their parents never learned it to them.

Edelgard had tried doing what her father had taught her from the perspective of someone who was hurt by someone else. She had tried telling certain people that they had hurt her with their words. She didn’t say it to strangers, she’d only see them once, but acquaintances of her family and various adults or children who she frequently happened upon.

They all responded with various answers which all boiled down to that they considered her rude for talking back.

Silently she told herself in her head that they only considered her rude because her words had made them uncomfortable, because she –a mere young girl- was right. And that made her giggle in glee.

She even liked how some people seemed to have a need to repel her, in an odd way, the more someone didn’t like her the more she could rebel against them and their expectations, decide who she was herself without other people showing her what she should be.

Her mother and father had always stood up for her as well, but only if Edelgard was unable to do so herself- because of her young age, her absence or because she simply wasn’t yet experienced enough in the skill of discussion and her age left her at an unfair disadvantage. As Edelgard wanted to stand up for herself, needed to believe she had that strength, and was reassured by her parents having her back should she lack the experience to be able to word herself well enough.

She loved her parents for many reasons but one thing in specific was that they generally let her be whatever she wanted to be and figure out everything, including herself out on her own, within what her parents called ‘responsible parenting reasoning’.

Edelgard’s family situation had been somewhat complex, although not unorthodox.

Her father, Ionius von Hresvelg, was a prince of Adrestia, by title at least. He was the fourth child of the second wife of his father, who was a son of the actual current Emperor. This meant he was the grandson –one of many- of the ruling Emperor. Meaning he was officially something like the twenty-ninth in line for the throne. Edelgard could never be bothered to remember the correct number, it was a high enough number that his claim on the throne was considered irrelevant in any case.

In practice that number could be somewhat lower, as princesses were generally discouraged from becoming Emperor.

Discouraged, but not forbidden.

If a princess felt determined to take the crown and had the necessary skills to do so no one could stop them, very little even so much as dared to voice their objections. But it was considered highly important for an Emperor to foster a large amount of heirs and while a man could fairly efficiently do such a thing with multiple consorts, a woman on the throne having consorts didn’t really help with increasing her number of children. Not to mention pregnancy tended to somewhat impair a female Emperor in her already draining and taxing job, especially in its later stages. Emperors were not expected to sit idly in a comfortable throne all day. They had to work, pay numerous visits, attend endless meetings and travel. The latter at least in a carriage instead of on a horse.

Either way Ionius never entertained the fantasy of becoming Emperor.

Even the castle wouldn’t remain his permanent home after he reached the age of thirty, when one was considered mature enough to form their own life, future and family. As a child of one of the direct sons of the Emperor he had grown up in the court, which had been an unique experience. Limiting in some ways, but massively expanding one’s horizon in others.

The father of Ionius had the Hresvelg castle as his home his entire life, as direct royal children nearly always were required to remain living in the castle once they reached adulthood, although they often at least had some sort of remote house they could occasionally flee to.

But Ionius had no such restrictions placed upon him, He’d always be welcome to stay, was even required to attend most important events, but he was free to build his own life, for which he could use his title as prince freely to benefit him, of course. Unless he turned out to be a buffoon, then his family would have hauled him back to the castle and forced him into some mind-numbing paperwork job if he had made too much of a fool of himself in public. Reputation was everything, especially for royalty, and that included minor royalty.

Thankfully he wasn’t one for much buffoonery, aside from the occasional prank or his secret joy of stealthily avoiding a stuffy meeting with stuffy politicians that never led anywhere. Ionius wanted his life to lead somewhere, though. And even as a young adult he was already working and making plans to get himself where he wanted.

Quite some years later he had succeeded in making himself useful, becoming a minister of education in Enbarr and he did this work with much devotion and care. The education system was solid and flexible, tailored to the specific needs, skills, family history, Crests and potential to those needing to be educated. Still, the system had holes and sometimes the young fell through these holes –because of various, usually painful and unfair causes- and were denied the education they deserved or needed for reasons beyond their control.

Raising children into functional members of society was a long, complex and costly process and while their well-being was certainly an important factor, it was also a simple matter of necessity that children didn’t fell through the system and grew up to be a burden rather than an asset for their society. With mankind’s long lifespan and Crest magic making them more resilient and less likely to die they couldn’t afford to have too many people who were denied opportunities and chances in their lives. Those who had no ways left to sustain themselves would inevitably be forced to resort to crime, not to mention the risks of them becoming homeless, strayed from the Goddess or become addicted to drugs.

Ionius understood the necessity of the strict educational system, still he often considered it too pragmatic and had made it his focus to add a touch of warmth and kindness into it. A touch that was welcome among the many professionals whose focuses lied in maintaining and improving the educational system.

The social system within their culture thrived on stability and balance and many people often considered love to be a bit too whimsical in nature. Something that made someone feel such intense emotions and those emotions convinced them what they wanted was right. This was fine in certain situations, but when one was considering someone as their future husband or wife it was deemed to remain somewhat levelheaded as this decision would not only effect the rest of your life and spouse, but also the lives of your future children.

This also applied to Ionius.

Minister or not, Ionius was still a prince, a minor one, he kept trying to tell everyone, but to no avail. Any prince was still supposed to foster many heirs, as their Crests were considered both precious and potent, those of which were always in need for more people carrying them. So Ionius had ended up with two consorts –wives, in every sense but their official title- both of whom lived in their own home, each located in one of the well-off districts in Enbarr. He wasn’t particularly in love with either of them, and neither were they with him, but they did genuinely enjoy each other’s company and valued each other’s personality, something that was often considered more important than being passionately in love for marriage, and he did feel something for them that felt like love, to him it felt like something in-between friendship and love.

What Ionius valued most of all in his two wives was their way of treating and raising their children, as he cared about his children very much. He visited and stayed with them as much and long as possible. He had to travel for his work and occasionally return to the palace, but other than that he lived with either of his wives, and when he was not with them they mostly enjoyed their own private lives.

Before Ionius had reached the age when one was legally allowed to marry he had often the dreaded the prospect. He already carried so many burdens and responsibilities stemming from his royal lineage alone –form many years of studying to managing to work himself up high enough into the political world that he’d have a position there- that he couldn’t possible imagine he’d be able to fit in a wife –let alone more than one- and children to devote his time and energy into as well – something he thought would be a very important thing to do. Most of all, he had been afraid his wife wouldn’t like him, meaning his relationship with his future children might be strained. He always had wanted to have an active role in their lives as they grew up, play with them, teach them things that he liked himself or considered important enough to teach them, take them on trips and help them figure out who they were and what kind of talents they had, what they enjoyed doing, so he could be a father who helped his children prepare for and grow themselves into a future of their choosing.

He would never be forced into an arranged marriage –although if he’d refuse to get married at all he would lose nearly everything he possessed- but he wasn’t truly free to choose a wife either. They had to be a noble of significant status, with a highly valued Crest as well - which meant that while he was free to choose who he wanted to marry, the pool of women his family would approve of wasn’t all that big.

In the end it turned out he had always worried very much but actually had very little to worry about, as the two women he had found interesting and delightful enough that he didn’t feel anxious at the prospect of his life becoming entangled with theirs had, much to his utter relief, also considered him a worthy companion.

He got married to his first wife at the age of thirty, this was quite young but not unusually young for a prince, and he and his wife-to-be had already become close friends. Less than a year after they got wedded his wife was already a few months into pregnancy, much to their mutual delight.

Four years later he married his second wife, who he had known for a little over two years. They liked one another, they often happened to be at the same events, meetings, the rare gala and eventually even paid private visits to one another. She had asked him one day if he would consider taking her as his second wife. This didn’t surprise him, he had a hunch she had been thinking about this for some time now. When he asked why she’d turn to him for this she had laughed and said that she had deemed it to be most important to form a stable friendship with any man who she would considered marrying. To ensure that even if they would never fall in love, they’d still be happy with one another. Then she had grinned and added that it also helped weeding out the impatient men who were more focused on the prospect of sex than on her and she didn’t think they’d make good fathers.

Ionius had felt his heart swell with happiness and warmth when each of his wives had told him before they were to be wedded that while his Crest was certainly valuable and each of their respective families were elated that they would be wedded to someone with such a potent Crest, a prince nonetheless, (lesser prince, he steadily reminded them) but that both women had genuinely come to appreciate him for who he was, as a person, not an offshoot royalty with a fancy Crest, and they too had been apprehensive to marry just for a Crest, but now that they knew Ionius for who he was, their worries were soothed and even had good hopes he’d make a good father.

They would grow to care for him very deeply over the years, just as he did for them.

Still, he considered the fact that he, as a noble of high status with an important Crest wasn’t only allowed to have multiple wives, he was not so subtly _expected_ to do so to be a system riddled with hypocrisy. Especially as infidelity was strictly forbidden. Not by law unless you deeply wronged people by doing so, but by the Church instead, which possessed a nearly equal amount of power and influence over the populace as the Emperor and the laws of Adrestria.

Sex outside of marriage and naturally, sex before manage were considered to be a major crime, a grave sin even, as it went directly against the Goddess’s blessing on mankind.

The majority of the population was deeply religious and followed the path of light the Goddess had blessed mankind with. 

Some people referred to them as the ‘Pure and Goddess fearing believers’.

In public, everyone was a true devotee and unanimously and fervently agreed about following the path of the Goddess.

In private, quite a large amount of people didn’t bother to pretend they cared about several specific aspects and details of the ‘path of light’ the Goddess had created for them.

The Church didn’t hold back in reminding people that sex was a moment of a divine connection to the Goddess, as it was the way Crests –her blessing on mankind- was passed onto children, and therefore should _only_ be done with the intent to try and conceive, and most certainly _not_ to be done solely for hedonistic pleasures.

That had been _very nice_ of the Goddess, certain people thought, to bless them with the ability to have sex. She had even been so kind to ensure that accidental pregnancies didn’t happen, as both parties engaging in intercourse were required to consciously call forth and activate a specific strand in the magic of their Crest to even allow the chance of conception to occur. A child nearly always carried the Crest of one of their parents, and if not they bore one belonging to their grandparents. So while it would certainly have been a scandal for a woman to bring forth a child with a Crest not belonging to the families of herself or her husband but instead carried one belonging to certain male acquaintance, the chance of this actually happening was non-existent.

This –combined with how marriage in their culture was more done to ensure both parties had a stable life and a way to safely raise children, so the relationship between married couples often tethered between a gentle form of romantic love and a comfortable and trust-based friendship where sex was indeed often done to conceive a child, while the confines of their relationship ensured that both parties were comfortable with one another they mutually enjoyed the act of doing so – meant that a fairly large amount of people did not care as much about fidelity as the Church did.

And Ionius knew his wives, one especially, were the kinds of people who didn’t care all that much about fidelity. He didn’t mind, he even thought some of the stories they had shared with him to be very amusing. He always told them to enjoy their personal lives and privacy when he wasn’t around, provided their mutual children didn’t suffer any negative consequences. In their society the duty to raise children was chief among everything else in one’s life, after all.

You’d be hard pressed to find even a single person who didn’t believe in the existence of the Goddess without a shred of doubt. There were numerous ancient records of the roughly seven hundred years she was present on Fodlan and actively guiding mankind, after all. Even if the records often varied from each other. If this still wasn’t enough to convince someone they’d have a hard time denying Her after being confronted with the fact that to this day there were five remaining living records on Fodlan, the Children of the Goddess, who’s immortality had been well documented over the many centuries. No one doubted they weren’t human, not fully. They had powers, wisdom and knowledge far beyond any human, small differences in their appearance that set them apart from an ordinary human, they didn’t need a Crest to weave magic vastly more powerful compared to humans with Crests and they frequently communicated with the Goddess, now said to be watching over mankind from afar.

The people in Fodlan were often said to lead two lives. One on the path of light created for them by the Goddess, where they followed her every rule, advice and did their sacred duties. This was their public life.

In their private lives the majority of people were of the believe they were able to govern themselves –to varying extends- well enough that they didn’t need the Goddess to control every aspect of their lives and instead they decided themselves which aspects the Church preached about would apply to them and which of them wouldn’t have to.

“Remember, the Goddess is always watching over you,” members of the Church would often solemnly and devotedly preach.

“Let’s make sure She enjoys the show then,” some people would say to one another in private, an age old response to the Church’s favorite doctrine, and if anyone working for the Church were to hear you say it, you’d be in deep trouble.

Ionius had considered he was doing his duty and contributing to society fairly well, all the while doing what he felt was important and what he loved, raising children which he loved and spending time with the two women who he loved, if not born out of romance their love had grown because of their many memories together. All in all, he was content with his life.

Then he had met Anselma von Arundel, and Ionius suddenly came to the conclusion hat all this there had been this small hole left in his heart which he had never even noticed, but when Anselma waltzed into his life, appearing at a political event which she seemingly had no reason to be present at, he suddenly felt the ache that hole in his heart was causing, and only Anselma could fill it.

Which she did, with a blush on her face and a wide grin on her lips, much to his exhilaration. He had felt love, passion, lust, desire and pleasure before in his life, of course. But for the first time he finally understood why being in love was almost considered a liability for a stable marriage as it was maddening. He was barely functioning when he wasn’t with her and when he was with her all he could focus on was her.

He was relieved to discover he had the mental strength to still dedicate himself to all the other important aspects and people in his life, but he also couldn’t imagine a life where Anselma didn’t play an important in it anymore either.

Anselma wasn’t bothered at all by his reveal of being a prince, already having two other wives and being the father of several children and had been equally happy to accept his marriage proposal as he was when he heard her accepting it.

“Will they hate me?” she had asked him about his other wives.

“Not at all,” he had reassured her genuinely. He had invited the both of them to tell them about Anselma, which he had done so with uncharacteristic nerves, a deep red blush on his cheeks and stammering the whole time. His wives had grinned, one of them called him a lovesick oversized puppy and the other had chuckled and told him he was acting like a schoolboy again.They gave him their blessing, provided his children with each of them wouldn’t lose any of his love, focus and attention. He had told them that that would only be natural for him to do.

All three of the women weren’t expected to meddle with each other’s lives. On occasion they would have to meet, at the palace or certain events and to ensure their children would grow up knowing their half brothers and sisters. They’d be colleagues of sorts, kindred spirits if they happened to get along.

She had shrugged and laughed, joking that she was confident she’d find some way to make them like her enough. She was flexible like that. Perhaps she’d even find mutual kinship with them whenever she had the need to complain about something Ionius had one.

On the day of their wedding Anselma had confessed to him that the prospect of marriage had always been daunting for her, as she often enjoyed being solitary and direct her own life even if she would be madly in love with the person who would be glued to their side, so the idea of having a husband who had more in his life than just her felt like it would suit her perfectly. A part of him had been slightly hurt, that the woman he was deeply in love with didn’t want to spend every minute of her life with him but he had dismissed it easily, her solitary habits and need to be free were among the things he loved about her to begin with. He also knew that it was the passion in him telling him he felt that way, and passion was wonderful in short bursts to create perfect moments but less useful in sharing a household.

His wife-to-be also told him, quietly as if she was feeling ashamed to admit it, that she was glad to be leaving her family household. She had been the youngest, with one older sister and three older brothers. She had a good bond with most of them, as well as there parents, and all but one of her brothers had already left the house and got married.

She got even quieter and her eyes searched for his. When they met his he felt fear rise deep inside him. Not because of her, no it was because of her own fear, flickering so clearly from within her eyes. "My... my eldest brother, Volkhard... he's nearly ten years my senior, so as children we never really bonded," she says and it sounds as if she's forcing herself to say this out loud. Ionius has half a mind to tell her she doesn't have to force herself like this but considers she really wants him to know of her struggle. "By the time I was ten he was already attending a boarding school for a private education," she stills and searches for Ionius's eyes, when her eyes meet his she releases a shaky breath and seems to feel reassured enough to continue. "He met some sort of unorthodox people there, I think. Because when he came back he just... had a different glint in his eyes. Not evil or malicious but... sometimes he'd say or do something and I'd see just a hint of ruthlessness, of pragmatism. He..he works in Crest research and theory now and sometimes I worry if that's all he's doing."

She shifts in her chair and brings a hand to her mouth, she moves a finger to her mouth yet the moment the act could be described as 'nail-biting' she seems to become aware of what she's doing and promptly lowers her hand, her fingers grasping the arm of the chair tightly instead. "Sorry, what I want to say is... is that he's very persistent in remaining in touch and involved with the lives of all of his younger siblings. Me, my sister and one of my brothers both voiced our opinions, stating that we'd love to remain in touch but do not with for him to be involved with our lives to the extend he is insisting he should. He wouldn't to us listen and our parents are trying to remaining as neutral as possible, not wanting to play favorites, certainly not with their adult children." She sighs wearily, and Ionius realizes this is the first time he sees Anselma so... listless, as if she's been fighting a battle for years and now simply tries to keep herself standing upright, not even fighting back anymore.

"Ionius," Anselma says, suddenly serious, with a hint of apprehension. "He will remain visiting me once we are married, he insists on twice a year... at least. He usually keeps to that arrangement but on a rare occasion he stops by unexpected, and those visits in particular seem to be much more than a simple family visit, either because he needed a plausible excuse to be in Enbarr or because he wants to assess what I'm doing with my life or something... I don't know he makes me so uncomfortable." She groans, sounding even more weary now.

While the prospect of having a creepy brother-in-law insisting on paying visits is not a very comforting one, Ionius feels much more invested in worrying how to make Anselma feel better.

"Does this mean I get to say mean things to him under the guise of friendly table banter?" he jokes with a hint of glee.

To his relief Anselma chokes out a laugh and grins. "Oh please do, you'd make me so happy," she smiles mischievously. "He already caught word of our marriage, naturally. Although much to my relief he immediately let me know he couldn't attend the wedding."

"Pity," Ionius says dryly. 

Anselma's eyes light up and Ionius feels his heart flutter.

"He has already written about you in a letter he send me a while ago you know, about how delighted he is that I'm to marry a prince, and that he'd surely be a valuable asset." She shrugs. "A valuable asset in what? Sounds more like he hopes you'll be a valuable asset to him," she grumbles. "Either way, he's very interested in meeting you," she says, not hiding her frustration and sighs in annoyance. 

Ionius already loathes this Volkhard guy, for making Anselma's life miserable with the mere threat of his presence and so will make sure the man will not make an asset out of him, ever. "I can't wait to meet him either," he says with faux enthusiasm. "I'll show him what a wonderful prince I am and what a valuable asset I am to you," he says smiling and with just a hint of pride.

Anselma just snorts, laughing as she looks up to him. "My knight in shining armor, where have you been all my life!" 

She breaks into childlike yet still melodious giggles and Ionius, high on love, finds himself laughing along with her less than two seconds later.

* * *

Their happiness together was blissful and well-deserved, they fit one another. After they had gotten married they were left free to go together and do what they want. Anselma liked to take him on long trips into forests and hills, something he had never really done before. He offered to take her much further with a carriage, sleeping at inns so they could explore the surroundings to their hearts content. He lost his wife on those trips several times, only to find her back three hours later, just a ten minute walk behind the inn, where she had laid in the grass under a tree and had fallen asleep, or she'd been untraceable while being in a very safe and normal space the whole time because of some other whimsical reason that was so typically her.

A little over a year into their marriage Anselma had fallen pregnant. They were both equally happy about it but Anselma also had her insecurities about motherhood, if she was suitable for it, or if it was suitable for her.

"I'm just always so erratic, she said, sounding frustrated with her own supposed shortcomings. Ionius wondered how she possibly could ever believe that her erratically was some sort of flaw of her. It only added to her.

“It will work out,” he had insisted. “We will make sure it works out together.”

She had bit her lip and asked him if he’d be disappointed if she turned out to be a bad mother.

He wouldn’t hear of it. Erratic was perfectly fine for a mother to be, children liked chaos and wild adventures. Besides, she wasn’t alone in this. He was there, although not always. But the child would have a nanny, if only so Anselma could have her needed peace and quiet, and it would have teachers at school and bishops at the church to guide and teach their child.

Anselma’s worries weren’t completely gone but she had been relieved by his unwavering faith in her. If he had so much confidence in her then perhaps it was just her own insecurities playing up.

“Just please don’t leave the child to wander into forests around inns alone,” he had joked. “I’m not sure either of us would survive the heart attack of not being able to find them for several hours.”

She had laughed and told him she’d just put a leash on the child and wander along with it, so Ionius could enjoy a double heart attack of not being able to find them both.

Anselma had liked being pregnant, or rather she thought it was hilarious. People suddenly made room for her when passing her in the streets, way too much room. This, along with many other small things made her feel like she was some sort of holy figure to be venerated, Anselma enjoyed getting to feel like that.

The mood-swings were also a unique kind of fun. She had never been one for impulsive bursts of anger, frustration, sadness that sort of thing. She could feel all of those emotions perfectly fine and occasionally would get into a fight if it was born out of a clash in reasoning or opinions with someone. But now she'd suddenly felt a surge of rage when Ionius stood up from his chair and the legs of the chair would creak and groan just _wrong_ as Ionus dragged the chair backwards. That sound made her want to wage war, leaving a very bemused and secretly amused Ionus to quietly go and bring her backsome tea. Less than half an hour later she'd be crying because they had run out of milk, and milk was all she really wanted that day. No more milk, the tragedy. It was an exhilarating, to feel this barrage of intense emotions over nothing in quick succession. Exhausting too, sadly. But the funniest part was that no one would dare argue with her and complied with all of her silly wishes and unsolicited needs.

When she was nearing the end of her pregnancy term her lovely brother paid one of his unsolicited visits. 

"To check on the baby," he had said with excitement after she'd asked him why he was visiting. 

"The baby isn't born yet, Volkhard," she had told him bluntly and sighed. "Roughly three months left." She gave him a pointed look, hoping he'd get the message and make this a _short_ unsolicited social visit.

This proved to be fruitless as he somehow etched himself into her house with some shady or shallow reason and insisted he'd stay at least three nights, just to see how she was doing in general, to help out a bit if she needed help.

Telling him she was doing fine and that her husband was helping her perfectly, visiting nearly every day and sleeping over often too had not helped deter him one bit.

On the contrary, the moment he heard her say her husband would be visiting his eyed had lit up and he insisted he'd stay so they could finally meet.

Anselma had shown him his room and promptly headed for her own bedroom, shutting the door and remaining there until she heard her husband come home.

Her husband, not yet as worn down as Anselma was, had found himself an enjoyable game consisting of 'how far can I push Volkhard before he catches on and which lie or empty promise should I use to put him off my trail again'. 

Admittedly, Anselma found it to be very amusing to watch. 

This went on far into dinner, the mood remaining pleasant but with the occasionally tense edge that one of them would promptly dismiss with a laugh and a wave of their hand. Neither her husband nor her brother were drinkers but er brother had managed to find the most innefective visitation gift and brought a bottle of some unfamiliar but undoubtedly pricey brand.

"From one of the finest wineries in Almyra," he had proudly told them. "I heard they pay children some pocket chance -an amount any kid would go wild over- to help out in their free time and peel the snails from the leaves in this particular wine orchard," Volkhard explained once he poured Ionius a glass of the dark red liquor. 

"Ah yes, I can really taste the labor of their efforts" Ionius had said one he had taken his first sip, sounding serious, nodding while looking very impressed. 

Volkard's pleasant demeanor faltered for roughly a second, a twitch in his arms as he reached to fill his own glass and his grin momentarily turning into the ghost of a snarl, another second past and he was laughing again when he tried looking for Anselma's glass. 

"Goddess, I'm so forgetful sometimes," he said, laughing at his own supposed foolishness. "You can't drink any alcohol, naturally," he added, gesturing at her swollen belly.

"Naturally," Anselma echoed, wondering if he truly knew this little about her, because pregnant or not, Anselma didn't like wine one bit. 

Her brother had apparantly not forgotten about her pregnancy when he went to buy the wine as he reached for his bag and fished out a smaller glass bottle of some sort of fruit juice, which he proudly handed over to her.

To Anselma it felt as he waa trying to mock her, taking glee in being able to deprive her of being able to drink wine and make her settle for what he likely considered a 'watered down, alcohol-less wine for children'.

He was already filling her wine glass with it before she could state any possible objections so she sagged in her chair and resigned to the fact she'd have to drink fruit juice with her dinner, which contained of meat, flavored with herbs, potatoes in gravy and a small mix of vegetables. Yes, she sighed to herself, the fruit juice would really go with that.

Judging from the color, it at least wasn't grape juice, which she also didn't like -too sour. No, it was seemed to consist of pink and blue, with various small red and dark blue things -seeds?- floating in it. "Strawberries and...?" she asked, looking at her brother expectantly. 

"Blueberries," he said proudly, like that was something to be proud of. Blueberries grew all around the forests and moorlands surrounding Enbarr. The bushes even rarely would sprout miraculously on their own in the oddest of places _within_ Enbarr too, from the parks to people's gardens or sometimes straight through the cobblestone on lesser used roads.

While they could hardly be something one brought for a special occasion, she wasn't all that opposed to the flavor. 

But she insisted on drinking it after having finished her dinner, as the flavor would just not go with the food, when her brother had prompted why she hadn't touched her drink- which he had to remind her just one more time was his gift to her- yet.

That had been the right thing to do as the juice tasted like a dessert.

She tried to stay up late, not wanting to leave the two men alone and risk their pleasant ruse would slip from either or both their faces and wake up to the sound of them arguing loudly, but she was getting very tried.

Her eyes must have been drooping because her husband caught on to her exhaustion quickly and offered to join her to go and sleep, to which she had gratefully accepted while he helped her up from the table.

Volkhard looked at them with an expression that told he had more to say but apparently he chose to swallow it down and told them he'd retreat to the guest bedroom.

Anselma's head hit the bed and thankfully sleep came almost immediately. 

* * *

When Anselma woke up the next morning her first thought was that something felt wrong.

She didn't know what, but it was something very important. She felt sick, of sorts. It wasn't the flu, no runny nose or coughing or anything like that but she felt hot, very hot.

Fever.

But even then it felt slightly off. Fevers usually made her shiver a lot, this one made her shiver much less and instead the heat seemed to radiate from within her.

_Oh Goddess, the baby._

She had managed to wake up Ionius, who had thankfully spend the night, and shakily told him, "I'm very sick, bad fever," choked on a sob, then added "The _baby,"_ after which she had promptly started crying out of sheer fear.

Her husband had managed to make a carriage appear in front of their door in under fifteen minutes.

At the hospital the healers and nurses quickly reassured her the baby was alive and seemed perfectly healthy. To be sure they brought in a healer who's Crest helped her to see warmth and the flow of blood in someone's body, a rare ability that only manifested from Crests which had a green glow. 

The healer detected a slight imbalance in the heat signature in her body, and that of the baby growing inside her, as her Crest allowed her to track the warmth in the blood of every part of a human, and a child in the womb of a woman was connected enough to the woman that it functioned as a part of her. "It's not dangerous, neither to you or to your child," she had reassured her. "My interpretation is that some sort of magical balance within you was distorted in your sleep, perhaps because of your Crest, it's not that unusual during pregnancy," she added reassuringly. "It usually means your child is carrying its father's Crest and while a child can't use their Crest while still in the womb sometimes the nature of the innate magic in both Crests clash in a way, they don't mingle very well and the friction between the magic causes heat. It means your fever isn't an actual fever but a symptom of the Crest's clashing, as their magic swirling in your body heats it up beyond a normal body temperature."

Anselma felt relieved and suddenly also deeply exhausted, so the nurses let her stay at the hospital so she could rest, the not-fever symptoms still hadn't subsided by the time it was evening so they insisted she'd stay overnight and soothed her body with healing magic, gave her some bitter medicine to drink and told her to get a good night's rest. Even after sleeping most of the day she was still tired so she slept through the night with ease.

When she woke up in the morning she felt perfectly fine again. After several more checkups from the healers she was discharged and free to go. Her husband had arrived earlier and they took a carriage back home.

To their mutual dismay Volkhard was _still there._

Ionius had told him about Anselma's sleepover at the hospital and subtly hinted he'd be in the way.

His response had been to tidy up and clean somewhat- something he wasn't all that good at- and also brought them fresh groceries, even insisted on making Anselma breakfast, with eggs and fruits.

He was being attentive, in his own way.

She didn't like it.

Somewhere around noon he did seem to figure out all on his own that perhaps his visit here was not the best of timings and maybe his stay was long overdue now.

Both Anselma and Ionius had been too tired to give a kind and generous response and instead mutually told him they'd rather be alone -so Anselma could rest.

in less than twenty-five minutes he was gone. 

He didn't even send so much as a letter once their child was born.

* * *

When their daughter Edelgard, had been born, white of hair and with two unknown, black Crests, there had initially been very little happiness and bliss, which instead were replaced with much more worry and fear.They had no idea what could be wrong, if she was born with a severe illness or some serious birth defect… perhaps even something worse. They barely slept the first several nights, terrified their child had been born so fragile she might not live to see another dawn.

After numerous visits to several healers they had at least been reassured their child seemed perfectly healthy and aside from her Crest seemingly not containing any magic her body was operating normally.

People began spreading rumors.

People always spread rumors when they get their hands on just a sprinkle of something odd, but some of these were mean. When word got out that their daughter's Crests weren't only nonfunctional but also unknown, people let their imaginations run wild. All children were born with a Crest from one of their parents or grandparents. So if Edelgard had two unknown Crests then maybe... her mother had done something scandalous such as sleeping with two men at the same time, causing her child's Crests to botch and come out distorted.

Anselma had gotten wind of this and interrogated every single person who heard the rumor until she found the source, a woman who worked as a librarian while not actually doing all that much work, and punched her square in the jaw. Her fist had been slightly off-center and she had fractured the lens of one of the lady's glasses.

No repercussions followed her and it helped her feel better about herself.

Still, stress quietly boiled under her skin.

It had caused some strain between her and Ionius. Arguments, misunderstandings and after one particular bad fight where they ended up screaming at one another with very little meaningful to say, they both decided to sit down and talk about every single worry and fear they had regarding their newborn child.

In the end they discovered that they had been having nearly the exact same thoughts and it had been the stress wearing the both of them down that had caused strain between them. After that they vowed to communicate better and try to stop agonizing over possible worries in the future, as Edelgard seemed to be doing perfectly fine, and instead focus on their child in the here and now. If something bad would happen to her they would deal with it once it arrived.

Things got better after that and Ionius was relieved to see Anselma smile more and more, even when she was just passing by the crib containing a sleeping infant Edelgard.

Edelgard had remained the only child of her mother, an oddity in their culture, as raising multiple children was considered one of the most important duties of any citizen, their whole society was built around this core aspect in order to balance the longevity blessed upon mankind by the Goddess with an influx of children to ensure their society would remain stable and functional. The laws had set a limit at eight, to ensure the continuous influx of children would be manageable and not fluctuate too much.

The last seventy years, give or take, of any person’s life was generally spent being invested in various disciplines often related to the mind and advancing society in a multitude of ways -this could vary from reading the occasional book about a topic one found interesting to devoting years of their lives to in depth research. They were the kind of disciplines that didn’t have much basic, practical or instantaneous use for a bustling society. Philosophy, literature, psychology, magical experimentation, different fields of science and the general development of humankind. These disciplines were considered highly important and greatly valued and ascribed to the elderly and experienced members of society, as they had lived through all the stages of life already, coming from all different kinds of lives, from farmers to politicians, and so were presumed to be more effective and precise in thinking about how to benefit society as a whole.

However in order to be able to sustain a large amount of people doing things that mostly involved sitting still and using their minds their society also needed a large and stable population of younger people to ensure there would be adequate and stable amounts food, supplies, homes, teachers, practical politicians, people working in one of the several magical disciplines and all the other more basic requirements to keep their complex society functional.

It wasn’t _perfectly_ functional, very little people would confidently argue it was. But it worked. The sacrifices and duties burdened on someone in their earlier stages of their lives were considered necessary hardships and despite that people often didn’t have much choice to comply, they often found some kind of happiness or contentment in it. Most people cared dearly about their children and most people felt important and meaningful if they had the feeling they were contributing to their society as a whole.

This meant, however, that society could also be strict, if it was deemed something or someone would be counterproductive to keeping their society functional and flowing.

So after Edelgard’s birth, along with her dud Crests and white hair, Edelgard’s mother had been promptly exempt from her social duty of birthing a litter of children. She wasn’t strictly forbidden but she had been firmly and delicately told that bringing another child into the world with Edelgard’s ‘unique complexion’ would be wholly on her and very much _not_ appreciated by anyone who had any influence on both the life of Anselma and all of her children.

And Anselma, recognizing a threat for what it was, listened to their delicately given advice.

Edelgard’s mother had cried very hard and loud while going into in-depth detail of the heart-wrenching pain and sorrow the prospect of not being able to have any more children brought her, suggesting she might never feel joy again, after which the paled orderly and attorneys involved in this complex case had offered her a generous compensation so she could enrich her life with other meaningful and fulfilling things, to which she had responded, sobbing all the while, that that would perhaps dull the pain a little and hopefully she would grow overtime to indeed be strong enough to find other worthwhile things to add to her life.

She had been just a baby at the time but once Edelgard was old enough to understand humor, sarcasm and scheming it had become one of her mother’s favorite stories to tell Edelgard. As the next thing the heartbroken and pitied Anselma had done was promptly use her ‘generous compensation’ to invest in literally every single one of her personal interests, and made it a point to seek out other potential things that interested her she hadn’t previously heard of. Her husband had thought her little scheme to be hilarious.

She loved her husband, truly. But she had hated being financially dependent on a man who had to balance her with two other wives and their respective litter of kids. It made her feel guilty, in a way. As if she was leeching off of him. She had worked before she became pregnant, when she still lived with her mother and older brother, who was planning his marriage shortly before she did. But as raising children was considered the most important thing and as it was still thought the duty of doing so fell more heavily on the mother than the father, she had quit her job several weeks into her pregnancy.

It didn’t even bother Anselma she wouldn’t have any more children. Raising one was a daunting prospect enough on its own and she had never put much personal value in having a bunch of them. She was a chaotic woman with an erratic mind who occasionally liked doing impulsive things purely for herself or spend several hours in solitude, unbothered by anyone as she indulged in hobbies like reading, painting or aimlessly walking through streets, farmlands and occasionally a harmless forest. The prospect of that freedom being taken from her because she would have a small army of hungry, needy, curious critters to take care of had terrified her.

But one child she could handle, and that one child she loved very much and always had her undivided attention. Which her daughter would need a little extra off, as Anselma could see from miles away how society would treat her daughter as she'd grew older.

Anselma had quickly used her new assets to deftly worm her way into any specialized social circles that had piqued her interests. Book clubs discussing literature which focused solely on reading controversial books or different books all dissecting a specific and complicated subject which all treated the subject from a different, often contrasting or opposing angles. Theater clubs, who’s members both enjoyed going to an array of vastly different kinds of plays and made amateur theater themselves. She went to all kinds of fancy and political events, where Anselma spend many evenings listening, smiling, listening, smiling while politely agreeing, nodding, listening while nodding and always acting intrigued but ultimately naive until she knew more about how the private lives of politicians and other influential figures affected actual political matters than any of these highly important people knew about her. She liked knowing things, it made her amused to see everyone carefully trying to navigate their own chosen paths while she never really influenced any of them, just curious to see how the many of their little games with or against each other would play out.

She spend much time with Edelgard, even when she was still an infant. But Edelgard wasn’t a fussy baby with an intense need to be with her mother, she even seemed to enjoy being left alone for a few hours at a time, with soft music or magical lights dancing in her bedroom. So Anselma felt no guilt when she hired a nanny, she looked at all their different resumes and identification papers meticulously. She didn’t really care much about what special skills or backgrounds they had to improve the life of an infant who still had trouble recognizing her own mother from across the room. All she wanted was someone who considered her daughter’s safety, happiness, peace and all her bodily needs their top priority. Play, too would be important once Edelgard could do that.

In the end she picked a lady who had many years under her belt but was still not considered old, she was only approaching her eighties, who seemed to take great joy in knitting Edelgard numerous quirky little caps, with bells, intricate colored patterns, curled horns, gentleman’s top hats and other things Anselma could see the humor of. Once Edelgard was well into her fourth year of life she started coming up with her own requests (“You can’t just demand her to make you things, dear. You have to ask politely or offer her something in return as compensation.”)

Soon little Edelgard was running around in knit sweaters depicting heroes of old and divine beings, along with hats that looked similar to the things her favorite historical figures had worn on their heads. Not much later Anselma gifted the nanny fabrics such as satin, cotton and other kinds of materials to make the increasingly detailed and numerous outfits Edelgard came up with, right down to endless capes with her favorite symbols and insignias. Each time Anselma send Edelgard’s nanny to the material store for another pile of needed fabrics she gave her a little extra money and insisted she’d spend it on things she personally needed, if not fabrics then something else. (She was nearly brought to tears when she discovered nearly two years later that the nanny would often spend a part of it on treating Edelgard, who often accompanied her, to various sweets or funny small gifts.)

Anselma didn’t care much for owning luxurious or fancy items, furniture or art pieces, but she did care for the odd ones, of which she proceed an array of over the years. Magic objects caught her eye at some point and in a short period of time she had acquired an impressive amount of complex magical trinkets which each had _very_ practical and useful functions such as floating in accordance with the current temperature, glow along with the phases of the moon, play soothing and ancient melodies to lull Edelgard to sleep. (Sometimes it would start producing unfamiliar melodies on their own without being prompted, Anselma and a few years later Edelgard too, both considered this to be uncanny but ultimately respected the orb shaped melody box's right to express creativity and had started rating the tunes it came up with, which the melody box would use as feedback to alter and improve its compositions to suit their tastes.)

She also liked to collect dead insects, exotic specimens, well preserved in a glass case and preferably big and scary looking. Edelgard was utterly fascinated by them, made her mother tell her all she knew about them, and when she didn't know enough to satisfy her daughter's questions they'd go and buy books on entomology, containing information about their habits, food sources, predators, lifespans and other things of interests which Edelgard devoured ferociously. Edelgard loved to draw them as well, first as just a crude copy with thick pencil like of the position the various insects were pinned in, later she’d draw entire scenes of them locked in battle or flight.

"That one is my favorite," the then eight year old Edelgard had said while looking, together with her mother, at the drawer with pinned insects, which was now nearly at full capacity.

"The praying mantis?" her mother had asked. She thought it was a good favorite to have, but she preferred the large beetles with horns herself.

"Hmhm," her daughter had hummed. "They look so intelligent and uhm.. eggelant," she said, then furrowed her brows, seemingly aware and annoyed she didn't know how to pronounce the word she meant correctly. 

"Elegant," her mother gently helped her once Edelgard had turned to look at her for help. "And yes, they certainly are, I head they are one of the only insects that can freely move their neck, and their fore-limbs also move really elegantly."

Her daughter made a noise of impressed fascination. "But why are they called that, a _praying mantis,_ I mean?" she asked with a puzzled expression. "Do they pray? I never saw an animal pray..."

Anselma had smiled and told her it was meant to be symbolic.

Then she had to explain what symbolic meant.

And then back to explain what a praying mantis was _symbolically_ praying about.

"I know this one looks somewhat flat and his forelimbs-." "Raptors, mother," her daughter corrected her stately, along with a affirmative nod. "They're called _raptors,_ it's in one of the books about their atanomy... uh, no, their _anatomy,"_ she said, her tone proud once she had managed to correct her mistake on her own.

Her mother couldn't help but smile, and feel pride as well. She had known they were called raptors but, thinking her daughter wouldn't know that, had settled for a more easy and clear name, now having to conclude that doing so hadn't been necessary in the slightest.

"Right," she said. "Raptors, I think I knew that at some point, must have slipped my mind." Her daughter only gave her a small smile, she didn't chide her mother for her lack of knowledge as her mother always taught her that if someone doesn't know something it's your job to teach them that, and not mock them for their lack of knowing it, people only know the things they learn from others, after all.

Also, boasting was a delicate art form, her mother taught her, but a very risky one. Boasting about something could make you look selfish or that you'd think you were smarter than everyone else, while it usually had the opposite effect. Not to mention the shame of boasting about knowing something and then turning out to be _wrong._ (Edelgard had gasped in horror, putting both her hands in front of her mouth and stared at her mother with wide, shocked eyes when her mother had told her that) 

Her mother had concluded with explaining that Edelgard could practice and think about boasting in her head, as nearly all kinds of boasting had a negative effect on you or on other people, but certain specific types of boasting in the exact and correct situation could leave people in awe and you'd be forever marked as someone impressive, should you get away with it. But she had also added that this was a skill only adults could do, as they had enough experience, knew the correct details and were strong with words. 

When Edelgard had asked her mother if she'd teach her the delicate art of boasting once she was old enough her mother had laughed so mirthfully that Edelgard had thought for a moment she had said something silly or dumb to her mother, but before the smile on her face and the happiness in her eyes could fade her mother had hugged her and told her she'd always be willing to teach Edelgard everything she wanted to know and learn, once Edelgard was ready to understand it. 

Edelgard could see the merit in that. She liked learning on her own but knew she was lacking in many important aspects to be able to understand more grown-up matters. So she'd learn and practice on her own, while her mother would guide her what she needed to know once she was ready.

"Raptors," she heard her mother say once again, shaking her from her inner musings and thoughts. "A praying mantis can use them for many things, they walk on them they can reach high with them to get to higher branches, the can even move them so flexibly they ban bend them to their mouths so they can clean and sharpen them." Pausing, Anselma glanced at her daughter, who was looking her with an impatient curiosity, not saying anything but her eyes alone told Anselma that inwardly she was bouncing eagerly and urging her mother to continue.

"Well, when a praying mantis hunts it usually waits on a spot it knows smaller insects dwell, and their colors," she said, pointing at the different species of mantids they had, in shades of brown, green and one completely white with, pink on its outer edges, "they use those to hide in the plant. They sometimes sit there, unmoving, for hours. But once an insect gets close they hold their raptors up slightly under their head, with the sharp slicing parts lowered in front of them, it makes them look noble and elegant, and indeed as if they were praying."

Her daughter was still listening to her with utmost concentration.

"That is until they strike, of course," her mother continued. "Completely motionless they watch until their prey closes in enough, wait for one mistake in their movements and strike with lightning speed. They grasp them with their raptors, who act like claws or scissors and they have so much strength their prey can't ever escape."

Her daughter made an 'ooooh' sound in awe and seemed to have found an even deeper admiration for her favorite insects.

"But what they're doing isn't really praying, then," she said, brows furrowed yet still with a glint of fascination in her eyes. "They are praying to kill."

"Indeed," her mother told her gently. The topic of death was one she had long since discussed with Edelgard and the girl never seemed uncomfortable when conversation went there."I think that's the symbolic part about it," Anselma hummed. "Humans pray for blessings or gifts from the Goddess, for someone to get better, to find the strength in themselves to do something difficult, don't they?

Her daughter nodded.

"Well a mantis also prays for a gift of sorts, like a reward for his hard work, I should say. He prays he will catch food, so he will survive."

Edelgard remained silent for a while, an oddity to most people who knew her daughter, but Anselma knew it meant she needed some time to put all the piece of information in order and conclude something on her own, usually with her own unique brand of creativity added to it.

Her daughter made a soft sound, almost as if she was amused by what she had came up with. "It's the same then, after all," she said, staring at nothing in particular. "Both mantids and humans pray to survive, the only difference is that what mantids pray for is real, visible and right in front of them, and they instantly know if their praying has succeeded or not. While we instead have to pray for something invisible, never knowing if we did it right or if our prayers will ever be answered." A forlorn kind of sadness fell over her daughter and Anselma suddenly felt as if her daughter was much older than she really was. "I envy the mantids then," her daughter muttered quietly. "They get to know if they have succeeded, if they caught their food, all we can do is wait and hope."

Anselma had never see Edelgard put much effort into anything pertaining the Church on her own volition, although she never resisted participating in everything that came with their religion, so Anselma had always thought Edelgard didn't really hold any deep feelings for the Church nor the Goddess, she was only eight after all, and both her parents weren't at all strict in adding religion to her upbringing. She never really considered if her daughter prayed, and if she did Anselma had assumed it would be for childlike things, a new toy, daring to climb something, wishing she would find back something she lost.

But now she couldn't help but wonder if Edelgard was waiting and hoping for something in secret, something she had only told the Goddess. 

Anselma didn't pry, her daughter had from an early age figured out that sharing everything with her parents was a good thing and they'd always be helpful or supportive, and she did share nearly everything, the 'nearly' containing of things Edelgard preferred to keep to herself, after her parents had taught her you can keep personal feelings and thoughts to yourself if you wished so.

So instead of prying Anselma opted for trying to get the sadness out of her daughter's eyes. "Maybe it's just a bad pun that the people who named the thing came up with," she said dryly, with the hint of a grin on her face. After Edelgard looked at her curiously her smile widened. "You know, as technically a mantis is both _praying ,_ as in looking like how a human prays, and _preying,_ as in hunting." 

Edelgard looked at her slightly dumbfounded for a moment, then a glint of recognition dawned on her and a wide grin spread on her lips. "That's _stupid,_ what kind of smart animal researcher names an animal after a pun... such a thing is not a joke!" she said fervently, trying to convey to her mother how deeply serious the naming of animals was supposed to be taken with urgency. 

"You'd be surprised by how many researchers in any field come up with joke names, my dear," Anselma had laughed, before quickly needing to soothe a rapidly increasingly furious Edelgard. "Everyone needs humor, dear. Even the smart people."

Her daughter had huffed in frustration, crossing her arms as she leaned against her mother. "I wish I could see one that was alive," her daughter muttered, still in an upset mood.

"Me too, dear. Sadly they aren't native in Adrestia, the climate doesn't suit them and they wouldn't live."

After a few moments of silence Edelgard seemed to have gotten her frustration out of her system as her voice was soft and wondrous once more. "I like the symbolic thing you told me about mantids praying much more than the pun," she said as she looked out of the window into the clear sky above them.

Anselma could only respond to her that she agreed, after which Edelgard seemed content with the conclusion of their topic.

* * *

One Edelgard was old enough to venture outdoors alone further than their own street and its immediate surroundings she picked up the habit of bringing her mother back various dead insects.

Her mother kept them all.

The crumpled and pitiful-looking mangled little corpses all together in a large box.

The rare complete and unblemished looking specimen Edelgard sometimes managed to find and bring her was always expertly pinned into a cushion and covered in glass.

Each one of Edelgard’s prized specimens she and her mother had preserved this way became a trophy hanging on her bedroom wall.

Other people thought Anselma’s habit of collecting exotic insects to be peculiar but ultimately not more than a harmless amusing quirk. Sadly, they considered young Edelgard’s habit of filling her pockets with dead insects to be unnerving and inappropriate, even when she rightfully defended herself and explained she had never killed a single one, she just happened upon dead ones along her many journeys. It was the first time Anselma had taken the then nine year old Edelgard on her lap and had gently explained to her that sometimes things one enjoys doing were perfectly fine and appropriate to do but still better not to wave around in people’s faces –especially those of strangers- because while all people were different, they didn’t always understand each other's differences. When Edelgard had asked why no one else had ‘odd interests’ like her Anselma had laughed very hard and had told her with passion that every single human definitely had odd interests and habits, but as one matured they developed a sense that told them which kind of things they could openly express in public and which of them were best kept to themselves or only among close and private company.

In public, everyone wanted to appear normal, to blend in.

She added that Edelgard simply had the unfortunate disadvantage of standing out in a crowd, both because of her hair color, her oddity with her Crests and her very _present_ personality, which might cause her hardships but were ultimately definitely a good thing, her mother had firmly assured her.

Edelgard had concluded on her own that if other people were going to judge her no matter what because of her hair and Crests alone –something beyond her control- she wasn’t going to humor them and spend her days delicately tiptoeing herself into exhaustion to soothe their struggle of constantly needing to dissect her every movement to reassure themselves she wasn’t acting out of line.

This quickly earned her the title of ‘troublemaker’ at her school and Church, along with her mother’s (subtly hidden) pride.

Her title earned her some respect from her classmates at her school and a subtle hint of fear from her fellow companions at Church with whom she participated in various religious activities and studies.

Edelgard's uncle visited twice a year, and often he'd stay over for the night. After a few years her uncle suddenly only started by only once a year. When Edelgard had asked her mother what the reason for this change was she had made a foul expression and had responded with "It was the best I could do."

Edelgard had only laughed, by now well aware her mother didn't like her brother in the least.

Edelgard didn't like her uncle as well.

Her uncle didn't like Edelgard either, so that suited her just fine.

The only thing her uncle did like about Edelgard were her Crests, which made Edelgard like him even less.

He'd go on about how he was a specialist in researching and tweaking the power of Crests, and not so subtly hinted he was interested in hers, or rather what was _wrong_ with them.

She had heard her mother hiss at her uncle from inside their kitchen that if she heard he so much as asked Edelgard to show him her Crests she'd make sure he'd never set foot in the house again. 

He never asked.

* * *

One day Edelgard had noticed that all the other children at school and church had several brothers and sisters. Why she didn’t have any –apart from her half-siblings she rarely saw- had been the first thing she had asked her mother when she came home that day.

Anselma had taken her on her lap and carefully, delicately explained to the young Edelgard that while she had never disliked the prospect of having children, she didn’t like being forced to have as many as possible. And she was perfectly content with just Edelgard, she preferred doing things with her and taking her on trips, and if she had a lot of children, especially babies, she would have to spend all her time taking care of each of their needs.

Most children had many daytime activities, anything from personal tutors and nannies taking them on trips or learning them skills or knowledge to attending small clubs and groups where they could safely play and learn under the watchful eye of teacher or nuns specialized in young children.

Children didn’t attend school until they turned eight years old, although they were required to have a grasp on the basics of reading writing and numbers before they did, the church, small tutor classes and even private tutors generally took this task upon them.

Edelgard loved school. The teachers were nice and she was incredibly curious so learning was one of her favorite pastimes.

Edelgard didn’t love Church.

She would have, she thought the stories she was taught were beautiful and fascinating and she took any rituals and prayers very seriously, the Goddess was amazing and good after all.

But almost everything that came with Church related activities involved the use of their Crests.

Crests which Edelgard couldn’t use.

The pastors and nuns were nice about it, or tried to be at least, but to them a Crest was the most important gift from the Goddess, something that showed how far mankind had gotten with her guidance and how they were worthy of her blessing.

So even if they didn’t outright tell her, Edelgard could sense how a child which lacked this gift from the Goddess, the proof she was worthy and blessed, was somewhat unnerving to them.

She couldn’t even participate in most activities, anything from prayers, rituals and even games required the children to summon their magic, drawing holy sigils in the air, conjuring up images, producing sounds that aided them in their singing and sacred chants.

Edelgard would stand stiffly to the side, watching and trying not to give away she was moping in frustration on the inside.

Crests didn’t just denote the additional types of magic one could wield next to the basic kinds of magic everyone possessed. No, every Crest also came with their own story, history and meaning. Every Crest had several important historical figures tied to them who had born said Crest. Every Crest stood for something, meant something, gave a person context that made them both unique and gave them a sense of belonging.

Edelgard couldn’t even do that, as both of her Crests were previously unknown, with not so much as a hit of meaning to them, if they were even true Crests at all.

At least she had her white hair, she told herself. That made her unique in her own way.

As the years passed by Edelgard steadily discovered that her hair was not considered the correct kind of unique and slowly but surely she was bullied into being an outcast. Her peers learned more and more about Crests, among which were those rumors that not having a Crest could mean one possessed no soul, or that they were a curse, that the person in question was evil. The fact both her Crests were ashen black lines under her skin didn’t help at all to counter the ‘cursed’ or ‘being evil’ rumors.

She was a solitary person by nature but even she felt lonely and isolated as an outcast. Gradually she had adapted to it, made the title her trademark, used it to get away with things and made sure she took pride in the way it defined her.

Her mother was her greatest ally for many years, as she perfectly understood Edelgard’s personality, defended her from all the things that hurt her as best as she could and dedicated much time to teach her child the skills to defend herself and deal with any hardships she had to endure from other people because of her differences.

Her father too, played an important role in her life. Naturally she didn't see him that often as he had two other wives with nine children between them, with his second wife expecting again to boot (The last one, I swear, we all agreed about that." Her father had said with a bemused smile) But despite him not being present most of the time Edelgard drew strength from the presence in her life. He made sure to spend roughly a week with them each month, the week sometimes split over several days, and he nearly always upheld this tradition, only seeing them less when there were important events in the palace, if he had to travel for a while, mostly for his job or if something happened in one of his other two families- such as another birth. 

But he told her amazing stories whenever he stayed over and made sure to be involved in her life as best as he could. Each time she had accomplished something impressive or earned some award he'd be there if there was some sort of graduation or ceremony, if it was a more personal achievement he'd come by within a few days to gift her a well thought out and incredibly appreciated present.

He made an effort to involve her in his life as well. He took her to the palace quite a few times to show her around and let her meet people. While not a princess by title she was still allowed entrance without a purpose or reason, courtesy of her father. 

On her fourth visit a clerk had approached her father to ask about details for an upcoming dining party with several ministers and if they would bring their spouses and children. Edelgard had caught him watching her and her father for several minutes, leaning against the wall of the large hall full of portraits and golden ornaments her father had been currently showing her around in. His expression had been displeased, following the pair with narrowed eyes.

While her father was occupied with his conversation Edelgard, who was holding his hand, looked around the huge and imposing hall. There was just so much to see. Eventually her eyes ventured to the ceiling and an awestruck 'wow' escaped her mouth in wonder of what she saw. In the middle of the broad oblong ceiling was a round, complex looking ornament, the golden interwoven patterns all around it resembling various insignia and emblems belonging to the royal family -she instantly recognized the twin headed eagle hanging underneath the ornament. The rest of the ceiling was covered in an incredibly beautiful, complex and detailed painting of the five remaining Children of the Goddess, painted with their familiar green hair, but also with white wings as they flew underneath a backdrop of blue skies, something which was supposed to resemble their Godliness, as they didn't actually have white wings. (As far as Edelgard knew) Two women and three men. Or, well one women looked more like a girl than a woman, Edelgard knew about that from what the Church told about the Children.

Her eyes lingered on the other woman, who seemed to look the most like an actual Goddess, with a calm and kind expression, yet also distant, in some way. As if the painter had tried to make her look like she cared and loved all of mankind but always from a distance and never involved personally. 

Edelgard wondered if that made her feel lonely, like she did sometimes.

But perhaps divine beings didn't feel loneliness. She thought that would be nice, although then it occurred to her they might not be able to feel the fuzzy warmth of being with people you loved and who loved you too, which let her to conclude she'd rather take the loneliness along with the warmth than being unable to feel either. 

Without really paying attention to herself she made another puzzling ' _hmmm_ ' sound as she was contemplating how loneliness might feel for a Saint.

A short, brisk huff drew her attention away from the ceiling, she recognized the intent behind that sound, it was annoyance. 

When she looked back to the two people she was currently standing next to she watched the clerk give her a dismissive glare before turning to her father.

"She acts like she owns the place, don't you agree?" he said lightly but the cold edge to his voice wasn't lost on Edelgard.

Before her father could respond Edelgard did it for him "If I owned the place you wouldn't be working her, I assure you," she snapped, not annoyed enough to lose her temper so it had came out sharp but eloquent.

The clerk gasped, turned his wide gaze to Edelgard, now actually glaring, bristled and then looked back at her father, seemingly under the impression he was about to scold his daughter. He paled when he saw Ionius's expression, it was cold and the fury behind his eyes was directed at _him._

Without so much as a nod he turned to his daughter. "An excellent idea, my dear. I'll take it up with some of the Emperor's orderlies, or perhaps the Emperor himself if I happen upon them.

Not giving the clerk another second of his attention he had tightened his grip on Edelgard's hand, motioning her to follow him to another painting to show her.

A few steps away Edelgard turned around, finding herself eye to eye with a pale, furious but also _very_ worried clerk.

She grinned and stuck out her tongue, catching him now truly fuming before quickly turning around.

A small tug on her hand. "I saw that."

"And?" He didn't sound mad, she knew what she did wasn't appropriate but she had no idea if he would reprimand her for it.

"Make sure only the people you want to see such a thing actually see it."

She nodded, committing her father's advice to memory religiously.

* * *

Being an only child suited Edelgard and her mother just fine.

Her mother could give Edelgard all the undivided attention she needed and the both of them found a lot of solace in each other’s company. The older she grew the more Edelgard took after her mother as she too was chaotic and liked to do things alone or wander around without a clear purpose. They often ended up doing things they liked to do alone together with each other. Those were some of Edelgard’s favorite memories from her years of growing up. The evenings after dinner where she and her mother would sit for hours in completely different places in their living room, both deeply engrossed in their current book in mutual comfortable silence.

_Alone together._

That’s what they had come to call it. They both liked being alone yet found comfort in being in each other’s company while doing so.

Another thing they’d like to do was wander together, into the grassy hills where they let the wind freely blow through their long hair, their clothes would get teared and ripped from the numerous bramble bushes they’d work themselves through to ‘take a shortcut’, meaning they’d spend the evening combing the knots out of their hair and mending their clothes, grumbling in frustration all the while.

Edelgard still smiles whenever she recalls the times both she and her mother had left the house separately without sharing their plans, only to run into each other at the oddest or most remote places a good while later. Sometimes they pretended not to know each other, each a knowing smile on their face as they passed one another in silence, other times they’d give each other a high five and resume the rest of their trip together.

Her mother had started letting Edelgard tag along to some of her hobbies and clubs somewhere during her tenth year of being alive, something more members of her club did, Edelgard would entertain herself with watching the adults practice, laughing to herself when they would say very dramatic sounding things very loudly. She committed many of their lines to memory, though. They sounded very useful for whenever she found herself in one of her frequent heated arguments.

Shortly before turning eleven Edelgard did make a friend, a true one who didn’t bully her one day and was nice the next one, and then only when no one else saw them do it.

Edelgard noticed one day she had piqued the interest of the one of other children who accompanied their parents. She didn’t particularly like this, it was usually either because of her hair or because they had heard _rumors_ about her and neither of those tended to be things her peers would use as a friendly conversation starter.

Edelgard learned later that day the girls name was Dorothea.

When the girl hard finally approached her it turned out she hadn’t been interested in the usual parts of Edelgard which interested people, instead she had pointed at Edelgard’s mother who was currently reciting some scene together with another woman -which later turned out to be Dorothea’s own mother- and had groaned in dismay, saying Edelgard’s mother possessed far too much charm to make her look believable in her current role of ‘stern and humorless headmistress of a monastery for nuns’.

Wary and unsure if the girl was offending her mother or not Edelgard had only stiffly nodded in response before finally turning her head away from the stage and taking in the appearance of the girl.

Edelgard had seen her on three different occasions now, and the first thing Edelgard ever said to her was bluntly pointing out to the girl that she had a peculiar habit of wearing a cap even when she didn’t have any need to, like _indoors during summer._

Dorothea had laughed and responded with saying that she did it because she liked standing out from the crowd, then sighed dramatically and added that her attempt to do so was currently in vain as Edelgard was definitely outshining her with her pretty hair.

When Edelgard had suspiciously asked her if she was joking Dorothea had smirked and shaken her head, then she casually told Edelgard she hadn’t been joking but had been _flirting_ with her instead.

This had caused Edelgard to blush furiously and she had found herself stammering without being able to come up with a coherent response for the first time in many years. It had been the very first time in her life someone had said something to her with a romantic context, something she was wholly unequipped to deal with.

Dorothea had only laughed and told her that she _was_ joking now.

Edelgard had gained immense respect for Dorothea in that single moment for having outwitted her so easily.

The additional fact that Dorothea had said her hair was pretty and (after several more wary inquiries from Edelgard) genuinely hadn’t been joking about that had certainly helped Edelgard like her more as well.

Less than an hour later the both of them had mutually decided to officially become friends, as children do.

Edelgard had been relieved to discover that Dorothea didn’t actually flirt with people, or knew how to flirt for that matter. Edelgard hardly knew a thing about romance or courting but was keenly aware that children were absolutely _not_ to engage in such complicated and _adult_ matters.

Instead Dorothea possessed a similar versatile habit which Edelgard had, where they’d deftly mimic things they had heard adults say –mostly their own mothers- and repeating them in similar and fitting social situations while their words were really just quite empty and devoid of any meaningful intent. Edelgard did this to make sure no-one walked over her, always snappily talking back with impressive sounding words she hardly understood herself, ensuring she sounded wise beyond her years and people would be discouraged from arguing with her. Dorothea did it to make up for not being born into a position of influence and instead innocently charmed her way into everything, sounding just friendly, curious and enthusiastic enough that both children and adults had a hard time saying no to her.

Both their mothers took pride in this, often smiling and saying their children took after them. Edelgard once even overheard Dorothea’s mother say she purposely taught Dorothea how to weaponize her social skills so she’d be adequately equipped later in life. It had been the first time Edelgard wondered if she would be ‘adequately equipped’ later in life, and if her mother was secretly teaching her those skills as well. She wondered if her future would be different from the normal future people had, as Edelgard was inheritably different herself, something people already treated her different for at her current age. Would that change once she became an adult?

But at eleven, thinking of a future where she would be a different person –an adult- was very hard, it felt like a world away, with an unfathomably large chasm between childhood and adulthood she couldn’t possibly see across now, so she hadn’t been able to make much sense of the concept, of realistically picturing her future.

Still, she felt a twinge of discomfort, one she couldn't make sense of.

And promptly dismissed any thoughts of the future to focus on the present again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll get Rhea in the story soon....soooooooon. God I'm so impatient. 
> 
> I'm also proud to say I wrote all the things about praying mantids from the top of my head as I kept various living exotic species for many years.
> 
> Also I would like to add, in case some readers find the marriage system in setting up kind of disturbing.   
> I have based it slightly on how it worked around the middle ages and even several centuries after that. I won't ever deny that arranged or forged marriages have a huge risk for abuse, sexism, toxic relationships etc to occur, and it does happen in modern days too. But for anyone who wasn't rich, surviving was always on their mind. if you lived in a farm village one bad harvest could lead to famines in winter.   
> And while people certainly felt love and desire the same way we did, they interpreted those feelings different, just how languages shapes ones feelings.  
> (religious) oppression and sexism aside, marriage served as a solid foundation to ensure survival for both men and women and gave them the opportunity to raise children to adulthood. The dynamic of one person working and mingling with his own specific social contacts, while another stayed at home to raise children, ensure their families could eat by getting groceries and cooking, kept the house clean, mended clothes etc was an effective one, although not an ethical one. But ethics were a bit whimsical during those times anyway, with cutting thieves their hands off for stealing and the like.   
> Our current idea of passionate love, soulmates and falling deeply in love with someone, entering a relationship and then get married wasn't a very realistic thing until the Shakespearean era, his plays actually played a very important role in it, which is one of the reasons Romeo and Juliet is so popular, as this was a whole new and intense take on love for many people at the time. But once again, people certainly had the ability to love as deeply as we did, they just had to work with the tools and limits of the time they were living in. And many people believed that love between married couples would grow over the years as their lives together would become the foundation of their love. (and yes, it was often still sexist and oppressive, but the other option was often death)
> 
> I'll admit the way i pained my 200 year old people's civilization is likely too idealistic. But let's be honest, the way people try to paint out current civilization also is rather over idealistic.


	3. Lightning

  


Dorothea turned out to be very skilled in the art of friendship for someone only barely having reached the age where children tiptoe at the doorstep of puberty and their friendship did wonders for Edelgard, opening doors for her left and right. Doors which she had never even known were there.

Such as going out into the city and aimlessly wander around markets and crowded districts with nothing but idle chitchats and giggles between them. While Edelgard loved going out with her mother, her mother and Edelgard enjoyed walking in comfortable silence and when they did converse it was usually with an actual purpose in mind, such as Anselma teaching Edelgard everything that they happened up on or which occurred to her, while Edelgard in turn would question her mother about everything she could come up with.

But together with Dorothea Edelgard learned the many purposes of meaningless fun.

Both of them looked quite young for their age and whenever they tried to buy something with the pocket change their parents had bestowed upon them they were often met with suspicious looks from shop owners, who were wondering if these children should be allowed to spend money without supervision. It became a bit of a game to them, to see which small things they could buy with their little bit of money without raising suspicion and which things they couldn’t.

Icecream and various other sweets turned out to give them no trouble.

Various kinds of jewelry (the cheap imitation sort, as it was all they could effort) required some effort.

Pretty accessories for your clothes and hair had worked fine until that one time they were trying on what they thought was a cute frilly hairband only to have a very angry store clerk tell them it was some kind of band women wore around their thigh on the day of their wedding, before being promptly ushered out of the shop, after which they decided they were too uneducated in the complex language of accessories and their unspoken meanings to risk having to undergo this kind of shameful experience again.

Daggers and other fascinating objects which were even remotely sharp or weapon-like were, as expected, impossible to get their hands on. They once got away with buying a kitchen knife however, after a lot of innocent explaining from Dorothea it was for her mother, after which the shop owner had begrudgingly wrapped it in an excessive amount of paper wrappings and sternly insisted they would beeline back to Dorothea’s home.

While they had been incredibly proud of their accomplishment in mischief they fairly quickly concluded they had no idea what to actually do with the knife and had gotten very nervous with even having it in their possession, feeling like two dangerous criminals just waiting to be caught.

After spending a good while arguing about who was to hide it in their bedroom without either of them budging and willing to do so, followed by mutually deciding that confessing to their parents was also not an option they had anxiously ventured past the city gates of Enbarr and buried the knife in deep into dirt only a few steps into the closest patch of trees, vowing solemnly to never speak of this to anyone ever.

Books had been a mutual interest between them, although they were very open about their disapproval of each other’s tastes, with Edelgard being fascinated with stories about kings and queens, epic battles and other - _boring and stale,_ according to Dorothea- things like history, myths and nature. In turn Edelgard would wrinkle her nose in clear distaste at Dorothea’s – _shallow and unrealistic,_ according to Edelgard- preference for tales full of drama and romance.

The later topic once got them into deep trouble when Dorothea had gotten the very bright idea of dragging Edelgard into the grown-up section of books about romance, only to discover that, once they were reading through the pages of a particular book, it contained much less acts of delicate courtship and grant gestures of love and much more… confusing kinds of people touching each other. Stuck between badly wanting to put the book away and unable to stop their curiosity as to what this strange thing could be they had not heard the owner of the store approach and had both screamed out loud in fear when he had angry yelled at them only a short step behind them after he had noticed what they were doing.

Caught red-handed in doing something they had instinctively felt was forbidden, although not at all understood why, and worse, recognized by the shop owner as Dorothea’s mother was a frequent visitor and often had Dorothea accompany her, they had profusely tried to apologize and claim it was an accident but the man had not been lenient and the very same evening both girls were called in by their mothers, with Dorothea’s mother visiting Edelgard’s home.

They had gotten a very stern talking, followed by a thorough explanation of things that were strictly meant to solely exist in the world of adults, during witch they had both fiercely wished they could have covered their ears or have fled the house entirely. Later the both of them had mutually decided to never ever get married and participate in the very weird and uncomfortable hobby some adults apparently had.

But Dorothea still wouldn’t drop her shallow love for romantic tales, much to Edelgard’s dismay.

  


* * *

  


For the longest of times Dorothea had been very persistently and enthusiastically insisting Edelgard should join the children’s branch of their mother’s theater club. Edelgard had been very reluctant at first –she wasn’t too keen on putting herself deliberately in the spotlight, people stared enough already at her as it was- but after she had begrudgingly accompanied Dorothea once and discovered that singing for theater required no Crest magic she had relented and officially joined a few days later.

Edelgard was quick to accept she couldn’t sing very well at all but seeing as she’d always sing in a group she didn’t mind much, it was nice to feel like you were doing something with a group and no one would notice it if she didn’t get a particular note right. It took her several years to discover it wasn’t necessarily that she was bad at singing but more that Dorothea, who she had always compared herself with, was just incredibly talented and practiced in singing.

Her enigmatic friend turned out to be quite the budding socialite, despite her and her family being commoners with no titles or names to them. Commoner often didn’t mean poor or uneducated, instead they were judged for their merit, personality, talents and achievements and lacked any background benefits that came with the importance of family, special Crests and history the nobility possessed. This didn’t stop some nobles to look down on them though, and in turn some commoners detested the nobility, considering them smug and shallow.

Either way, for a twelve-year old girl it was impossible to have developed any noteworthy skills or talents, let alone have any impressive achievements under their belt. This didn’t dissuade Dorothea in the slightest and she easily charmed her way into everything she deemed worthy of her time and presence, now often with an equally curious and determined Edelgard eagerly at her side.

Less than a year later the now thirteen-year old Dorothea had introduced Edelgard to a peculiar looking girl with a violet colored triangle mark under her eye and a unique choice in clothes and hairstyle, something which Edelgard had instantly appreciated about her.

Only a few seconds into their introduction it became apparent to Edelgard the girl barely spoke a word of her language and after pleadingly looking at Dorothea for help her friend had explained that this strange girl and her mother had recently moved into a house in the same street as where Dorothea lived. The girl –Petra was her name- currently already understood more of their language than her mother did –which meant next to nothing- so the neighborhood had a hard time figuring out just exactly who they were, where they came from and why they had chosen to come and live in a city full of people whose language they didn’t speak.

This didn’t seem to bother Petra much. Petra in general didn’t seem bothered by anything very easily, radiating confidence and calmness wherever she went. Dorothea had liked this about her, telling Edelgard vigorously that any girl who wasn’t easily intimidated was most definitely a charmer, with or without words, and had promptly began dragging Petra along with wherever she was going.

While Petra lacked the ability to engage in or even follow detailed conversations with them she often somewhat understood the gist of what Edelgard and Dorothea tried to make clear to her –with their hands and feet if needed- and would either go along with them or gesture that she’d meet them later or another day.

The first time the three of them ventured out into a nearby forest –on Edelgard’s relentless insistence as Dorothea held much less passion for crawling through the undergrowth than she did- Petra had made it very clear that what she lacked in her ability to communicate with them effectively, she made up by stunning them into silence with her impressive skills when it came to anything nature related. In the span of three hours she showed them how to climb trees with minimal effort, (Both other girls had clumsily given up on the lowest branches, Edelgard two whole branches higher than Dorothea, clutching onto them with desperation while watching in awe as Petra made it to the canopy in under a minute) then she proceeded to teach them –without much use of words- exactly which herbs, roots and mushrooms were edible, (Even without Petra being able to communicate this to precision with words both girls completely trusted her judgment nonetheless) and finally spend a good amount of time stalking several wild animals with a very excited Edelgard and Dorothea close on her tail. They didn’t actually hunt or catch anything but the thrill alone of stealthily closing in on anything from a rabbit to a deer had been greatly appreciated and valued, and so Petra had earned her own niche form of respect among the three of them.

The three of them all had vastly different interests but this only helped them in coming up with new creative things to do over the years. Children had very little influence or rights, everything was officially decided for them until twenty, after which they were considered old enough to be prepared for the responsibility that came with adulthood, and even this preparation took another five years, with a focus on formal education to specialize them in their future trades as well as navigating the complexity of social life, marriage, raising children and religious activities.

But what children lacked in influence or rights was made up for with an abundance of individual freedom. Children were purposely given many years to freely learn, discover and explore the world around them, other people and themselves, ensuring they learned things their mandatory schooling provided by schools and the Church couldn’t do as efficiently. They could make mistakes and learn from them, figure out how to interact with other people and discover who they were as a person, what they liked, what they naturally excelled at and what they loved doing in life. It was believed that a child who had the advantage of having such personal experiences would have a much easier time finding a suitable trade or meaning in their adult lives to devote themselves to and made them happier in the long term. Which sounded very warm and nurturing but had the very pragmatic underlying benefit of turning children into much more efficient and useful adults.

But it was a freedom Edelgard and her two friends welcomed with open arms and made as much use of this freedom as they could throughout their years of friendship.

  


* * *

  


Petra’s language barrier prevented her from being able to join their theater club, which was making Dorothea feel particularly distraught. It also made both her and Edelgard realize just how many of all the things their world had to offer –which they had always taken for granted- was locked away from Petra, and this in turn made them determined to take it upon themselves to teach Petra as much of their language as they could so she too could navigate their little social world, something Petra greatly appreciated and in turn made a serious effort to put all the new words she learned into practice. The results of her progress was noticeable with each passing month.

Sadly for Petra her two lovely friends also considered it peak humor to teach her words and phrases which, strictly speaking, weren’t _necessarily_ offensive but also definitely _not_ the appropriate way of wording whatever it was she was trying to convey to someone.

She caught on to their little stunts fairly quickly, she was good at reading people’s faces –had to, if she couldn’t understand their words- and one glance at the confused and mildly disturbed expression of whatever adult she had just spoken to would tell her when she had clearly said something off-putting, despite her friends firmly insisting it had absolutely been the correct way to word it mere moments before.

Such as that one time she had wanted to tell this gentlemen how impressive his wife's height was, something considered quite a facet of beauty where she came from, only to later realize she hadn't told him his wife was impressively tall but instead impressively _fat._

She soon realized she could tease her unruly friends right back at their own game by feigning innocent confusion and demurely asking the adult if she said something wrong, adding that her two friends –who were usually some distance away in plain sight, not very successfully trying to hide their snickering- had been so nice by teaching her how to say it, maybe she had gotten it wrong? She didn’t want to disappoint them…

And no matter how adept both Edelgard and Dorothea were in their own unique ways to creatively bend language to their will, they still had the immature and crude sense of humor that came with their age, the kind of humor that fell very flat for an adult and which would sound very obviously like a childish prank, meaning they’d often found themselves apologizing profusely for taking advantage of Petra’s limited understanding of their language, always with a smug-looking Petra standing right next to them.

This didn’t dissuade the devious duo in the slightest and instead it became a battle of wits between them and Petra, with Edelgard and Dorothea working hard to ensure that whatever inappropriate things they would try to made Petra say were getting increasingly subtle and inconspicuous so they couldn’t be traced back to them, with Petra fighting her hardest to do so anyway.

Over the course of some years Petra still wasn’t completely fluent in their language as a whole but now had an advanced knowledge consisting of exactly which words and phrases were considered offensive in which specific contexts.

  


* * *

  


Despite Edelgard’s differences, which she was constantly reminded of by things varying from lingering stares from strangers to people treating her as if there was something inherently off about her, or that her lack of Crest magic was a liability to be pitied or even shunned, she was fairly happy with her life. Her freedom to go where she pleased, her friends who constantly seemed to forget Edelgard even looked any different, and her mother always rallying behind her, supporting her from a distance made her content with how things were.

It could have remained like this forever if it were up to her.

But of course, it didn’t.

The one thing her mother had always managed to hide from her were her deeply rooted worries for Edelgard’s future. Edelgard was smart –at least in most ways, in others she was just chaotic and quickly bored- and needed constant stimulation, challenges, things to pique her interest in order for her to remain happy and content. Those were fairly easy for her to find on her own, or have her mother assist in providing them for her now that she was still a child. But the older one gets, the more complicated things they can understand and get invested in. Anselma grew increasingly worried if the world would continue to allow her daughter to be free and explore to her hearts content. Her nonfunctional Crests would forever follow Edelgard and cause her to run into more and more closed doors wherever she would go.

Many things would be beyond her reach, professions, trades, support from the church. Deep down Anselma knew that if she herself had been all but forbidden to have more children it was almost certain Edelgard would be forbidden from having any at all, which likely meant she wouldn’t be allowed to get married either, as the foundation of why marriage was so important was to ensure children had a stable upbringing.

And someone who wasn’t married was faced with several harsh limits in life. People were only allowed to live together with their own family members or with their spouse once they were married. There were places where people were allowed to live alone, dormitories for students, monasteries –where people went to live or study for a multitude of vastly different reasons- and some other smaller things like very confining boarding houses. To Anselma those felt more like prisons -with things like curfews and mandatory regulations- for those who society deemed to have ‘failed’ in their duty to their community. The thought left foul taste in her mouth, Edelgard hadn’t failed anyone, it was society who failed her by taking opportunities and possible futures from her over things she had no control over.

Maybe if she had been born a boy it would have been easier. The thought made her angry too, as if there was anything a man could do her daughter couldn’t. But an adult man who wouldn’t use magic still had some opportunities by learning a skill that required little magic and support themselves with working in such a profession. But those generally were professions with a focus on physical labor, and men still often were of the strong opinion that such work wasn’t to be done by dainty women with fair skin. There certainly were women working in those trades –a minority, but still- but those only managed found footing in those trades because they came from a long line of generations who had spent their lives honing their skills in such trades or if a woman happened to excel in a particular profession to an extraordinary extent –and this was generally because they had found ways to make effective use of their particular Crest to aid them in their work. 

Neither of those possible options applied to Anselma’s daughter.

With each passing year Anselma grew more anxious. Her daughter could live with her as long as Anselma was alive, which should be some good hundred-fifty years or so. Still… as close their bond was and as comfortable they were around each other –even in solitude- her daughter would grow restless and frustrated once her friends and peers would start to spread their wings and fly, entering academies where they’d enjoy higher and more specified educations tailored to their individual skills, make their way into social circles which would serve as a safety net to fall back on throughout their lives, finding a partner and getting married, children….

Anselma promptly realized she didn’t even know if Edelgard wanted children. It was every person’s duty to do so, yes. But what about wanting them? Would Edelgard be relieved she’d never have to become pregnant or would she have to add yet another deeply rooted sorrow to the already large amount of burdens and grief she carried on her back.

“Edelgard?” she had asked her then sixteen-year old daughter one evening, subtly glancing over at the girl, who was sitting at their dining table while hunched over a book she was engrossed in, her eyes aided by candlelight.

“Hmm,” her daughter had responded casually, not even looking away from her book yet perfectly able to both continue reading and hear what her mother wanted to tell her.

Anselma considered her words with more care than she usually did, as most of the time she knew her words to be chosen well enough with Anselma making a conscious effort to do so. “I was wondering dear, what are your thoughts on the prospect of… of having children?”

Edelgard had still been hunched over her book but when she heard her mother hesitate, something she rarely did, the girl instantly forgot about her book and looked up to meet her mother’s eyes, and oh they were… nervous? A hint of discomfort, worry perhaps? Anselma now had Edelgard’s full attention, as those feelings were not normal on her mother, certainly not in regards to Edelgard.

“Children…” she echoed tentatively, mulling the prospect over in her head. “They’re part of everyone’s future are they not? I find it difficult to actually picture myself having them though… I know I’m still far too young and lack many skills but even when I picture myself as an adult, as you, it’s hard for me to imagine it,” she said, seemingly not having put too much thought in the prospect of children before.

Relief washed over Anselma, as it seemed Edelgard hadn’t been putting much time in fantasizing and daydreaming about raising children one day then. She exhaled softly, feeling some of the tension in her body leave along with her breath.

Then Anselma stilled, all her muscles unmoving, as a small, innocent smile had bloomed on Edelgard’s lips while she stared wistfully into the darkness outside through one of their window. “Maybe if it’s like with you and dad, I would like it,” she murmured. “That my husband would leave me to lead my own life sometimes, that I could still be alone and read,” she mused out loud. “If I could still do that then maybe I would really love having children, I always loved it when you taught me things and took me along with you on trips and to clubs, how you let me join you in your hobbies and let me find my own…” she smiles again, wider now. “The thought of doing that with a child of my own seems… wonderful. I think at least.” 

She still sounds childlike, Anselma found herself thinking, in her way of picturing the future, but the more mature feelings of wanting to grow into a future were certainly there too.

Edelgard grins playfully. “But not too many,” she laughs mirthfully. “I wouldn’t be able to keep track of them, no I’ll go with the bare minimum, definitely.”

If Anselma thought the pain she was currently feeling for knowing her child’s innocent dreams for her future might not ever come true was bad enough, she quickly discovered she could feel an even more intense pain run deeper inside her when she watched her daughter’s smile falter and her eyes turning hollow.

“I don’t want to think about this,” Edelgard said quietly, her voice cold and on edge. She looked at her mother, taking in her expression for a moment. “You lied to me didn’t you? All those years ago when I was about nine and I asked you why I didn’t have any more siblings.”

All Anselma can do is nod, ashamed for having to admit she lied to her daughter, even if it was for the best at the time, she had been so young… too young to understand.

“You were forbidden from having more children,” her daughter states emotionlessly, without even a hint of doubt.

Anselma nods again. “More or less,” she admits, her voice barely audible and hoarse.

“And that means so will I,” her daughter concludes numbly. “Along with many other things.”

There is no anger in her, nor frustration, instead there is a gaping hole currently inside Edelgard that’s normally filled with fierce rebellion against anyone or anything that dared to try and stop her.

But now all Anselma sees in her daughter is resignation, with no intent to defy the limits placed on her and her future so unfairly.

A permanent crack in her normally so unblemished and resilient daughter.

She feels something crack in herself too.

An overwhelming need to ensure her daughter’s future freedom and happiness overcomes her.

And so the next time her distasteful older brother comes to pay them his annual visit and once more shamelessly begins to talk about Edelgard’s Crests, starting this time by saying that his team has made a break-through in the research of Crest amplification...

Anselma hears him out for the first time in her life.

  


* * *

  


Edelgard doesn’t remember most of that night. The whole experience is just empty inside her mind. Sometimes the large chasm in her memories feels as if it’s nothing but a vast whiteness, other times it’s more of a stark blackness instead.

She remembers what happened before. Her uncle being so eager and exited, explaining to her that during his research on amplifying Crests –perfectly legal and harmless, he had insisted- he had stumbled upon a way that would most certainly help Edelgard’s Crests activate.

Because that’s what they had been. Not broken, not duds, not burned-out and no curse. They merely had never been activated. Why? He couldn’t tell.

But she should be ecstatic! He had told her, as the details weren’t something she should bother herself with right now.

Edelgard hadn’t really felt ecstatic, she had felt confused, strange. She had always lived without being able to use Crests, and yes she had often been frustrated by her liability and had wished countless times they would just have worked normally.

But she had also gotten used to it, it was a part of who she was, of who she had fought all these years to become, despite so many other people condemning her for being born as she had been.

So the idea of suddenly having Crests was… daunting, overwhelming to say the least. Would she keep both of them? Wouldn’t they interfere with each other? What if they got unstable… her uncle did say he had discovered a cure for her during research in Crest amplification… what if they got amplified too much? Or maybe one person couldn’t handle the strain of having two Crests at once, they weren’t even known Crests, who knew what kind of powers they contained….

She had asked for time to think, or at least to prepare and consider all the changes it would have on her life.

Her uncle wouldn’t hear of it, kept saying wonderful this chance was, hadn’t she wanted this all her life? Why drag it out? He wouldn’t be in the city for quite some time either, so it really was now or never.

He called her ungrateful, naturally without actually outright saying she was being ungrateful. But with several nuanced hints and jabs that’s what the meaning of his words came down to.

Edelgard didn’t want to be ungrateful, especially not if this change would likely make her life so much easier and her future much more open, for her to control and decide over.

She told herself she was just scared, and when Edelgard was scared or didn’t know what to do she would turn to her mother, and while something seemed… off about her mother, she too insisted this was wonderful news and a chance they really shouldn’t let slip by.

Edelgard had trusted her mother her whole life, and not once had her mother betrayed her trust so while still uncertain but also with her mind made up and put at ease by her mother’s reassurance she took a deep breath and told her uncle to go ahead with the procedure.

The last thing Edelgard clearly remembered from that evening is how he had almost impatiently ushered her into her bedroom with an expression on his face –a smile- that had made her feel cold inside.

Edelgard remembers only three things from undergoing the procedure itself.

The one most deeply etched into her was the pain. She had never known such pain before and it had felt like it had gone on forever. Later she was told it had lasted only a night but to this day Edelgard has a memory of nothing but intense and agonizing pain that feels as if it stretched out over weeks if not years in her mind.

The second thing she remembers is the screaming. First she thought it had been her own screaming, and maybe it had begun with just herself, but it had also been her mother screaming and it wasn’t just out of pain or desperation like Edelgard’s own screams. No, there had been anger, rage in her voice and her screams had contained words. Edelgard cannot remember a single word of what her mother was screaming about that night but she remembers with clarity her anger and wrath had been aimed at her brother.

The last thing Edelgard remembers is her mother’s focus on her. It’s nothing but a fuzzy, distorted flash of images in her mind but she can still see her mother, standing next to her, reaching out to touch her forehead.

_Pain._

As if lightning struck her, and unlike lightning, the searing pain didn’t last an instant.

Her mother’s horrorstruck face as she pulled back her arm in fright.

Sorrow, guilt, regret.

Edelgard doesn’t remember any words her mother told her that night, despite recalling her mother talking to her, saying many kinds of things in a panicked hurry, but her voice is muted and her mouth looks like an endless black void each time she opens it in Edelgard’s memory.

But still she remembers some of the feelings her mother was trying to get across to her.

Apologies.

So many apologies, profusely and out of desperation, the kind of apologies that don’t make anything better but you can’t stop saying them either.

The next emotion Edelgard recalls her mother feeling in her memory always makes her blood run cold and she so fiercely wishes she had been able to do or say something at the time.

Loss.

In her memory, Edelgard despite being so weak and delirious, had realized her mother was saying a farewell of some sorts.

Her memory ends in flashes of panic and nothing but an endless string of words.

No, don’t go. Please, mother, don’t go. Stay. I need you, please. Please, don’t go, mother. _Mom, please!_

…Come back.

  


* * *

  


Edelgard’s mother hadn’t come back, not in the many years that would follow.

And neither had her uncle.

It was the last time she had seen either of them, both vanished without a trace.

Instead she woke up in a hospital, four days later, angry and panicked, she had felt utterly feral. It had taken the healers and nurses the good part of an hour before they had managed to calm her down, and only when they had convinced her that her father had been by her side every second he had been able to, only having left today for a short while to contact his family and that he would return soon, had she relented.

They were relieved when she had slumped back into the bed and had said they were afraid that the water mage they had on site to douse all the flames in her room wouldn’t have been enough if they hadn’t gotten through to her soon.

It took Edelgard a long moment for those words to make sense to her. Once she glanced around the room she did see severe burn marks nearly everywhere, all covered with water which was now steadily dripping from the walls and ceilings.

Even more disturbing was her discovery that the blankets, mattress and pillow she was on were burned most of all, with entire chunks turned to ash. When she looked to both her sides she saw a charcoal black shape on each side.

Handprints.

_Her own handprints._

Only then did she become aware of a faint heat radiating from her chest. She could tell the heat was far hotter than something one could call ‘warm’ yet it didn’t feel painful at all.

A moment later she had torn open the button down white hospital shirt she had been wearing and had made a choked and mortified sound of surprise.

The Crest of her chest was glowing in bright reds and oranges, unsteady and in inconsistent flashes but still.

Her eyes went to the other one and it was the same, except it was glowing in pulsing green.

She had stared blankly at the two lights on her body for a long time, unsure what she was supposed to think or feel.

_It was me who set fire to the room._ The thought repeated itself over and over again, ringing loudly in her ears, until she was finally able to understand what that meant.

Her Crests were working.

_Her Crests were working._

A muted, skewered sort of excitement shuddered through her.

Instinctively she knew that so many things were wrong, that so much had gone wrong that night.

But she couldn’t help the twinge of excitement running through her when it began to dawn on her that her Crests were actually working. She couldn’t possibly begin to entail what that would mean to her from now on.

Suddenly remembering she wasn’t alone she tentatively glanced throughout the room, taking in the faces of the three hospital workers who were tending to her.

To her worry, all of them looked uncomfortable, at _her._

No, not at her but at her _bared torso._

First she considered that she had caused them discomfort by stripping, such a thing was inappropriate after all, but no that made too little sense. These people worked in a hospital, seeing people naked was part of her job.

Tentatively she took another look at her body again, her eyes instantly captivated once more by the dual lights of her Crests.

Then she gasped, almost choking on air.

As her eyes had noticed something else.

White lightning.

That’s the only way she could describe those… patterns all over her body.

Several thick white lines seemed to be sprouting from both of her Crests, crawling all over her body in jagged edges and splicing into numerous thinner lines which too contained of nothing but sharp edges each time they changed direction, before splicing into even more thin lines.

They were etched all over her torso and –after frantically checking the rest of her body- over her legs and arms as well, ending in what seemed like distorted star-like shapes on the undersides of both her feet and in the palms of both her hands.

In one night Edelgard had lost her mother and gained her Crests.

In one night she had traded in the black ashen lines of her once broken Crests for an array of pure white lightning patterns instead.

Crying, she wondered if this meant she had truly been relieved of a curse she had been carrying all this time after all or that she was now truly cursed instead.

Or maybe this is was just what being blessed by the Goddess looked like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You came here for the romance? tough luck! It's more worldbuilding and character establishment instead.
> 
> SoonTM
> 
> And I'm confident the knapsack world I cobbled together would likely be more leaky and less idealistic than I'm writing it to be, but let's face it, our world is also less idealistic than we pretend it is:)


	4. Red and Green

All her life Edelgard had been so sure that if her Crests had worked and let her use magic everything would have been be so much easier for her.

To her disappointment, but no longer to her surprise, it turned out that once they had started working her life had only gotten harder, and now contained much less of the happiness and joy she had felt so often during her pre-functional Crests life.

She ended up remaining in the hospital for over six weeks. Her ‘involuntary confinement’ as she had come to tell everyone who would listen.

A week into her stay in the hospital she was transferred to a different wing, one that focused on physical and magical rehabilitation of a person who had suffered an accident which impaired one of those, which was often both as a person’s magic was deeply rooted into their body.

Because now that her Crests were working, something was very wrong with her body.

“An unfair trade,” Edelgard had bristled, not hiding the hurt in her heart she was feeling.

At first the doctors and healers had thought her muscles had lost most of their feeling and strength, despite this not making much sense as when Edelgard had first woken up she had been violently trashing and once she calmed down she still had the remaining strength and dexterity to undress herself.

So while Edelgard was relieved to learn she hadn’t gone paralyzed she still struggled enormously with the most basic and simplest of movements, such as walking and picking up things.

Her Crests also ended up making Edelgard feel nothing but feel bitterness. They worked sure, but generally only whenever _they_ wanted to. She could vaguely summon a tiny flickering flame if she concentrated hard. But if she’d turn around her head too quickly a sudden condensed trail of fire might just be following along with her in a wide circle.

She didn’t have much trouble blaming any of her fire related accidents on her freshly named Red Crest, as she hadn’t wanted to give the thing the satisfaction of bestowing it with a meaningful and beautiful name. Crests usually had a basic element or other basic form of magic it naturally excelled in, their color often a tell as to which one. So Edelgard held no doubt that her Red Crest had a thing for fire.

The Green Crest –named with equal creative effort- didn’t seem to be doing much on its own volition, which Edelgard was thankful for. Green Crests were considered one of the Crests with the most variety in magic, with a more nature-based range of possible abilities. Some people tried to simplify the nature of green Crests by narrowing their magical abilities down to a single word: Healing.

And yes, a variety of healing skills were among the most common and basic powers which manifested in people with a green Crest. But in reality the abilities which were possible to manifest a green Crest –while still often rooted in forms of nature and healing- consisted of an incredibly vast array of different abilities. This long list of possible powers included abilities such as in-tact organ removal, controlling one’s blood flow and on rare occasions even things like the strictly forbidden art of necromancy, so some people were somewhat suspicious of people with Green Crests, as despite them being invaluable to the everyday healing occurring in all hospitals and wherever it was needed, there was also a long history of people with Green Crests who to this day were infamously known for having set up illegal organ trafficking rings or having experimented with necromancy to such an extend it got out of hand and the lives of many civilians had gotten at risk.

Edelgard hoped that necromancy wasn’t going to be one of her powers, although she had amused herself with raising an army of skeletons and wage war while riding on a fancy skeleton horse. …If that’s how necromancy even worked. Souls were known to go to the afterlife, and a person’s body was just what remained. Would she have to control each individual skeleton with her mind? Or could she give them remote orders like she was some kind of bee queen in a hive? Or did they did have some sort of mind of their own… what if they could talk? She had shivered at the uncomfortable implications and left the fantasy for what it was.

As the days in the hospital passed –dreadfully slow- Edelgard started become aware of a reoccurring sensation within her body. It was a faint and buzzing feeling underneath her skin, gently radiating from within her torso. It felt comfortable, familiar and it usually made her feel pleasantly calm. She had been suspecting that it was the effect of the Green Crest, as they often came with a few of the vast variety of healing abilities in existence, but it wasn’t until Edelgard woke up from yet another nightmare –which had become a regular occurrence since the incident, often multiple times a night- that she could confirm her suspicions about the Green Crest.

She had woken up from the sound of her own screams and, despite the weak state of her body- had lunged forward, leaning heavily on her trembling arms and shivering in cold sweat. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess as she tried to fight off the panic threatening to clutch her into its claws, panting heavily all the while.

Then.

A pull inside her mind.

Something small and white in the darkness.

The calm eye of the storm in her mind.

Desperately she let her mind follow along with wherever the pull inside her mind was leading her to, discovering moments later that the pull was coming from the Green Crest, now humming steadily underneath her skin as it radiated the subtlest waves of calmness, gentleness, coolness and something solid and strong in her mind she could grasp onto and ground herself in the present.

After focusing on the powerful unyielding and ever present force inside her she became aware her breathing had returned to normal and her panic had resided.

Definitely the doing of the Green Crest.

Edelgard grew to appreciate the Green Crest more than the Red one.

The specialists in the rehabilitation wing had come up with a program to help Edelgard recover, deciding to first help her regain her physical strength and control before focusing on the magical imbalance inside her.

They ran a number of tests on Edelgard’s physique and made her do a series of tests as well. The only thing that became clear was that Edelgard’s muscles seemed to be incredibly weak and that Edelgard had lost significant control over them, causing her hand and arm to tremble terribly whenever she tried so much as to pick up something incredibly simple and light.

After numerous tests they could tell with certainty that something was wrong with her body, but not what or what was causing it, which made Edelgard feel rather frustrated.

They had all been gentle and patient with her, albeit with the clinical efficiency that came with anyone who worked in a medical profession.

During the fourth day in a row the specialists made her try to pick up yet another fork and twirl it with one hand they made a breakthrough.

She had picked it up successfully yet halfway through trying to slowly spin it over a tremor ran through her hand and the fork slipped from her fingers.

Her building frustration finally got the best of her.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she exclaimed along with an angry grunt.

One of the specialists lost her temper and sternly reprimanded her for her language as profanity, especially among minors was, condemned by the Church and this hospital was part of the Faith.

The other one remained oddly quiet, looking at the moody Edelgard curiously.

“Again,” he said. It wasn’t a question but it didn’t sound like an order either, more as if he wanted to try something new.

Despite her frustration for failing the first time and for having slipped up with her words, Edelgard indulged him and swallowed her annoyance.

She was making good progress this time, lifting the fork and was about to attempt to slowly turn it.

“You know,” the specialist said casually, yet sounding slightly accusing. “I think you’re just not trying hard enough,” he continued dismissively before raising an eyebrow at her. “Or are you truly this weak?” he all but scoffed, with a hint of disdain in his voice.

Edelgard’s eyes instantly shot instantly to meet his own, fury taking over her senses as she’d been trying _so hard._ How _dare_ he!

The fork in her hand cracked with a loud sound.

When Edelgard’s eyes darted to the noise she was just in time to see the fork, now snapped in two, fall from her clenched fist and land on the bed sheets next to her in two uneven pieces.

“Huh?” Was all she could manage, not comprehending what could have caused the fork to snap. There was no fire nor heat so it couldn’t have been a fluke of her Red Crest.

The specialist who had insulted her just a few seconds ago hummed with curious interested. “That’s what I thought, your body isn’t damaged. Instead the strength in your body, mostly in your muscles is simply wildly out of balance.”

“Oh… huh?” Edelgard uttered again, still confused and now slightly worried.

“The seemingly random fluctuation in your Crests is also present in your body,” he explained. “I’m not entirely sure what’s connecting them or why you are experiencing these effects your body, but what we _do_ now know is that a sudden increase in your emotions you causes an increase in the strength of your muscles as well.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “My apologies for that, by the way. I meant no offense, I simply wanted to test my hypothesis.”

Edelgard had only grinned. “Progress is progress, now we have something to work with don’t we?”

* * *

Regaining back her normal strength turned out to consist of less ‘rehabilitating’ and much more of ‘figuring out how to hold the reigns over her body’.

She still possessed her former strength, even much more now as it turned out, but she had to learn to predict and anticipate how her body would exert its power and find ways to make sure her body would use the amount of strength she needed for a particular action.

Emotions helped a lot with this.

Emotions also made it much worse.

In a flare of rage Edelgard found she could topple over a fully grown man who worked in a trade that had honed his muscles for years.

When she was nervous or insecure she couldn’t lift a teacup without her hand trembling so much the contents would spill.

So emotional control it was.

It wasn’t as if she could just shut them off, but she slowly eased herself into keeping her emotions from fluctuating rapidly or with intensity. Sudden bouts of rage would have to be subdued somewhat. That meant she would have to become more emotionally flexible when it came to dealing with how she was affected by her surroundings, by people saying and doing things which would cause her to feel.

“Like reeds along bodies of water,” she explained her father on one of his daily visits. (In the four weeks she had been here he had not been able to visit her on five days, which he still felt so guilty off that he kept bombarding her with presents and promises of ‘after this is over we are.’)

“Hmm reeds? What do you have in common with reeds?” Her father had questioned her with genuine curiosity.

“They gently sway along with the whims of the winds which moves them,” Edelgard told her father. “Most of the time all they do is sway but when the wind is particular strong on some days they bend, their stalks go nearly horizontal when the winds bend them like then, still swaying even when bended horizontally."

“Hmm,” her father hummed in understanding, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“Well that’s what I am from now on, a reed. I can sway, my emotions can sway freely as nothing noteworthy happens, for example when I am happy because of the warmth of the sun or upset I lost a board game.”

She put her finger to her chin, considering how to word the next part.

“I can also bend, if need to so. That’s when someone around me makes me feel a particular strong emotion. If I wouldn’t do anything my body and my Crest powers might react, they’d slip through my control over them. But if I _bend,_ I can let it slide. Reeds are flexible and so will I have to be. Instead of getting angry I’m going to practice letting their words slip of me like water, to stop caring so much.”

Her father made sound conveying his impressiveness, after which his brows furrowed in contemplation. “A very accurate analogy and an effective method to help yourself balance too,” he complimented her, and Edelgard felt a surge of pride swell inside her. “But what are you going to replace the anger with, my dear?” Edelgard’s father asked him. “You can’t just stop feeling angry and tell yourself it didn’t hurt, you’ll end with an emptiness where your anger should have been.”

Edelgard grinned widely. “Humor,” she said proudly. “Humor will be my weapon to shield myself from those who will cause me hurt or anger. If I don’t take those people seriously or their words personally I can have a good laugh about it,” she told her father with a proud smile on her face.

At that her father laughed. “You always had a knack for humor, I’m sure you’ll hone your skills in no time.”

“Hmm,” was all Edelgard responded with. “Reeds can do one more thing when confronted with wind.”

Her father gave her an expectant look. “And what might that be?”

“They snap.”

Her father stilled.

“Oh.”

“Yes, if the wind just keeps raging on for hours eventually reeds will snap because of the strain on them,” Edelgard delicately continued with her analogy. “And that’s what I am going to try and prevent from happening to me, so that neither my body nor my Crest magic will involuntary spike to such an extend I can’t control them.”

Her father seemed to mull this over before meeting her again. “I’ll help you, El. You won’t have to do this on your own. Many things will be different from now on, but you won’t have to do them alone, my child. Please let me know whenever you need help, even if you’re just uncertain about something.”

It was subtle but he brought a painful topic to the surface just now, one Edelgard couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Dad… have you found any new leads on where mom could be?” she asked quietly, terrified of the answer despite it having been the same one each time she has asked before.

He stilled as if he was surprised she’d ask this, despite her asking him this question every single time he visited. For a moment she was stuck between hope and dread.

“No, my dear. We haven’t found a trace of her yet,” he told her, his guilt, sadness and feelings of failure woven into every word. But he lingered, met her eyes, darted away only to sigh and look at his daughter one more.

“What is it?” Edelgard told him, as she had realized he was hesitating to address a painful topic.

“It’s been over a month El…” he said quietly, almost as if he was about to admit a grave sin. “Your house, you won’t be allowed to live there any longer, not even if I’d pay the rent and everything else, you’re a minor and you are not allowed to live alone.”

Edelgard remained quiet for a long time, her mind black as the sudden panic she was feeling was preventing her from having any meaningful thoughts.

_She was going to lose her house._

_All of her precious belongings._

_No, worse. All her mother’s precious items, which would now become a keepsake for Edelgard if her mother would never return._

_And she would have to live somewhere else._

“Don’t panic, my dear.” She heard her father say and only then did she become aware of her surroundings and her body again. Silent tears were rolling down her cheek and she was beginning to breathe shallowly.

“I know it’s horrible and you need time to progress it but I’ll do the best I can to ensure all your needs and wishes will be taken care of,” he insisted.

“My belongings,” Edelgard said unsteadily, her voice laced with deep sadness. “And Mom’s belongings, I don’t want to lose those. Please dad, please don’t let people take them or sell them, please let me keep them… somewhere… oh I _don’t know_ ,” she cried and hurriedly buried her face into her hands as muffled sobs echoed through the room.

Her father put a hand on her back and gently rubbed it in slow, rhythmic circles. “I know, I know El, it’s okay to cry my dear, and I promise you we will,” he tried to reassure her.

Without moving her face from her hands Edelgard made a muffled questioning sound, her way of asking him to continue and explain.

“I’ll go to the house and we will take anything that you find worthy enough to keep, even if it’s literally everything down to an old paper wrapping which has fallen behind the couch years ago. Please, make a list of every item you wish to keep and I won’t stop until everything is crossed of the list, and then thoroughly inspect the house for anything you might have forgotten or which I think might be important,” he assured his daughter with heart-felt determination.

Edelgard’s sobbing was subsiding and tentatively she lowered her hands from her face and met her father’s eyes with a weak nod.

Slightly reassured, her father continued. “And we won’t keep anything from you. We will delicately move everything to a large storage room with the best locks in one of the outer buildings of the palace. It can stay there until you’re old enough to live somewhere and come take the things you want to have there, and if you want to keep things but have no room for them, or simply want to remain having access to them you can keep the storage room your whole live. You can visit any time as well, perhaps take some of the more meaningful things with you for where you’ll be living soon.”

That piqued his daughter’s interest, who now looked at him with wide eyes and a mixture of fear and tentative curiosity.

“Where… Where will I be living from now on, dad?”

Ionius wished he had brought this subject up more delicately, and on purpose.

He took a deep breath. “In Elanora’s house, along with your siblings there.”

Edelgard remained staring at him without moving a muscle, the curiosity was gone from her face and the fear now mixed with despair.

She didn’t want to live there.

_She didn’t want to move at all._

_She wanted to go back to her normal life._

Her mind was begging her to find a way, to just look over her shoulder and grab on to the live she had been leading which was just a step behind her, pull herself back into the past. Her life, all of it still felt so close, so normal and real.

But it was gone.

Her mind was looking for other solutions now, to stay in her old and familiar home… but the thought of living there alone terrified her. Other solutions made her feel equally dismayed, the few people she was close with might let her stay with them but she’d feel like a burden. She’d _be_ a burden.

Frantically her mind kept racing, trying to find a way out of this darkness she had fallen into so blindly.

Until it all stopped.

She exhaled slowly, her breath shaky.

And Edelgard resigned herself to the reality that her fate was no longer in her hands.

She swallowed and nodded once. ”Alright.” Her voice was hoarse. “I suppose that is indeed the best option, I hope they won’t feel burdened by my presence.”

Her father had insisted that that wouldn’t be the case, that they would welcome her with open arms.

* * *

Her stay at the hospital ended up having to be prolonged by two weeks. The reality of how much her life had changed in one night, and how different everything would be once she would get out of the hospital had put so much distress on her emotional state that her recovery process –which consisted of emotional control and focusing on her muscles- had significantly slowed.

She tried hard but often flashes of bitter anger or anxiety and doubt about what her life was going to look like from now on put her under so much mental strain she needed more breaks, more time to practice and, as she was also exhausted, a lot of time to sleep.

But finally, _finally_ after over eight weeks she was to be released.

The thought made her feel both elated and terrified.

Her home, no…her _old_ home, she couldn’t think about that, not without pain in her heart.

If the legal owner of a home disappears without a trace and stops their monthly payments too then in five weeks’ time the contract is nullified.

If her father hadn’t already officially written her name into the family register of his first wife’s legal papers, Edelgard would have been homeless for three weeks now, although the city likely wouldn’t have let her. There were several more unpleasant options for Edelgard to live at, with an orphanage at the bottom.

But in those three weeks… her father had been quick and efficient. Several days ago he had come to tell Edelgard that all her belongings (Her mother’s belongings were now legally hers) had been stored in the storage room at the palace.

Her house was empty.

The house was no longer hers.

She didn’t want to see it.

When her father came to pick her up with a carriage around noon she had nothing with her but the clothes she had worn that night, which were covered in burn and scorch marks. Her father had brought her some of her old clothes, of which she was wearing some now. The rest, along with things like toiletries, she had delicately put in a small luggage bag earlier that morning.

Said bag was now put into the carriage, after which Edelgard placed the burned clothes next to it.

“A keepsake,” she told her father when he glanced at the pile of fabric and then gave her a questioning look.

He had smiled and nodded.

Edelgard climbed into the carriage, knowing that she was about to travel to what would be her new home, it was a daunting prospect.

About half an hour later she and her father had barely said anything. They had spoken nearly every day in the weeks before and now they were stuck in a gap on things to talk about. Edelgard wanted to ask about the manor which would soon be her home, but didn’t dare to ask, or come up with something decent enough to ask.

In what felt like a few moments later she was suddenly jolted out of her thoughts, finally with a question in her mind.

She was just about to ask her father which high school she’d be attending when he spoke up first.

“Look,” he said. “There at the end of the lane, that’s Elenora’s house… Oh, but make sure to call it her manor, she likes that title,” her father grinned. “You’ve visited here once or twice before haven’t you?”

Edelgard felt confused for a moment, the trip was supposed to last roughly an hour and a half, until she realized she might have fallen asleep while trying to come up with something to say.

She looked out the window and indeed saw a modest looking manor which looked more like a house. It was large, sure. And a standalone home too, with a big garden filled with trees, bushes, lots of grass and even a pond.

“Yes, I’ve been here twice, but the first time I couldn’t have been older than seven, so I don’t remember much. Last time was about… three years ago I think,” she responded absentmindedly, still taking in the sight of her new home - _manor._

* * *

True to her father’s words Edelgard was welcomed warmly to her father’s first household, and she adjusted quickly enough.

Adjusting being the keyword.

She adapted well enough, found her way smoothly into the different way the family worked, yet it was never home.

Never did she feel like she could be completely her true self, out of fear, her nagging doubts about herself and the risk her Crests would act up on their own accord.

It wasn’t their fault. They tried their best at least, she could see that.

But she couldn’t fully connect to them.

And often she was just so… _angry._

Angry at them, angry at her father, angry at her mother, her uncle, her friends who she now barely saw.

And most of all herself.

She couldn’t even always pinpoint why she was so angry, sometimes it was something little, others it was something that had been festering inside her for weeks, if not months.

Sometimes it seemed to be nothing at all.

Most of the times she could control and hide it perfectly well, other times she’d get into heated arguments or took long walks while tears of anger rolled down her cheeks.

Worst case scenarios were when her Crests would flare up and she’d have a lot of apologizing to do.

It was quickly decided that she’d be homeschooled for the rest of the year, she had already missed nearly two months of classes and now she had the added difficulty of having working Crests, which were needed in some aspects of school, but they were still too unpredictable.

Her tutor who was supposed to get her skills in Crest magic back on track quickly came to the conclusion that she was pretty fluent in the different ways magic naturally worked, although untrained and inexperienced, but that her main problem truly lied in how her Crests were so closely tied to her emotions and behavior.

When she told him the story with the reeds she had come up with to apply to herself he found there a basis for a plan to teach her to experience emotions and separate them from impulsive reactions, anything from yelling in anger to clenching her fists.

It took her some time, but eventually she learned how to feel things without the impulsive need to express them, and by the end of the year she seemed much more calm and composed to everyone who had known her.

But inwardly she was a mess, the nightmares alone made that very clear to her.

* * *

Edelgard tried her utmost best to remain in contact with her two most precious friends, she really did.

It didn’t help she lived nearly an hour and a half away from them now.

It didn’t help that she had so many unresolved feelings with her former life that she could barely look them in the eyes either. She didn’t harbor hate for them, it was more an unfair sort of jealousy, because they got to live their lives normally, together. While Edelgard had been taken out of the equation without her consent. It felt unfair, but they weren’t at fault, and that made her feel guilty.

She met up with them several times, yet each time was more awkward and strained than the previous one.

The last time she saw the, in a café near her old neighborhood, Dorothea had snapped and in a bout of frustration told Edelgard to please tell open up to them, to stop hiding that she was hurt, to keep their connection and explain just what had changed. They were drifting apart and nether Dorothea nor Petra knew how to keep Edelgard close to them.

It had startled Edelgard, most of all to discover that she was indeed hurt and kept that from everyone, along with that connecting to people seemed truly impossible for her now.

She had smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, it seems it’s me who has changed,” she had tried to explain. “I don’t think I can go back to how things were, to who I was before.” She felt tears well up in her eyes and a strangled sob escaped her lips. “I’m sorry,” she repeated uselessly.

Her friends had been at a loss of words, or perhaps they had simply needed a little more time to come up with something meaningful to say, but each second felt like an unbearable weight on Edelgard and before she was aware of it her desperation and panic overtook her and she found herself storming out of the café.

She kept going, walking through crowded streets into empty alleys before finally coming to a halt, wondering if she had broken something permanently now.

They exchanged letters after that. Of apologies, promises of future meanings.

The letters became more scarce and superficial over time, and within the year they had stopped altogether.

* * *

Shortly after it was mutually decided she’d attend a boarding school. She hoped she’d enjoy it, a fresh start and a new environment.

She didn’t enjoy it.

But she managed, mostly. It was a lot of the same, the mundane repetitiveness kept her calm, her emotions at bay and by extension, her Crests under her control.

So she managed, until she didn’t.

It started with minor incidents, moments where she found herself so frustrated she did set something on fire, or punched something, or just completely left the class she was attending, or the campus altogether to get away and simply walk until she had sufficiently calmed down.

The teachers tried to understand, to reach out to her, but she simply couldn’t open up and tell them she couldn’t control her magic, that it was a momentary loss of control caused by pain she didn’t understand that made them act up.

Edelgard came to loathe losing control.

She tried to hide her malfunctioning Crests as best as she could, until she had been the cause of so many incidents there was no teacher left to defend her if she kept refusing to tell them what was going on.

She got expelled four months before graduation, at twenty-two.

To her relief she was allowed to continue her education at home and still take the exams, which she passed without much trouble.

Back home again she was preparing for any sort of specialized education that interested her.

A part of her had been long since dimly aware that she wasn’t doing well, not since the accident. But she had managed, her family had been supportive, she dealt well with being alone and the curriculum she had taken wasn’t too stressful on her.

So while she wasn’t fine, she was still managing.

Still, it took only one final straw to break that illusion.

She hadn’t expected it, had been genuinely looking forward to finding a specialized education, but one day she couldn’t sleep and quietly ventured downstairs, where she happened upon her father, sitting underneath a dim light with a glass of some kind of alcohol in it.

Her father wasn’t really a drinker and even now he wasn’t drunk, but once he greeted her she could tell he was slightly intoxicated.

After getting a glass of water and some fruit to eat she joined him across the table.

“Rough day?” she asked him, nudging her head to his glass.

“Yes,” he mumbled almost distantly. “Rough _days,_ to be precise. Some stress, busy days. Nothing I can’t handle.” He stilled for a moment, taking Edelgard in carefully before continuing. “And I suppose I’ve been missing your mother, it doesn’t help the… date of her disappearance is coming up soon,” he muttered almost awkwardly.

“That’s alright father, try to take it easy. We are here for you,” she tried to reassure him, although she felt rather powerless to do anything meaningful.

He gave her a grateful smile.

A thought struck her mind, a question she had grown to ask less and less over the years, as it had visibly caused her father pain every time she did so.

Still, with her childlike hope she couldn’t resist, it had been many months since she last asked. “You probably haven’t heard anything new about… about mom’s disappearance, have you?” she asked, almost answering the question for him already.

Her father shook his head. “No,” he said absentmindedly and took another sip from his glass. “Nothing after Volkhard told me to-”

He stilled.

And so did Edelgard.

_He knew something._

It droned in her head over and over again.

_Her father knew something about her mother, about her uncle._

And he was _keeping_ it from her.

“After he told you _what,_ father?” she asked, her voice colder than she expected it to be.

“Nothing, dear. Please forget what I said, I’m tired and the drink is getting to me,” her father tried, yet failed to hide the edge from his voice.

“I won’t forget.” Edelgard declared. “So tell me.”

“…No.”

It had spiraled out of control rapidly, with each of them losing their composure while trying to keep their voice down as anger overtook them.

Edelgard can’t even remember what it was exactly her father had said that got to her but something cracked in her.

“You have it easy,” she sneered. “Two more wives in whose arms you can fall and ten more children to play family with,” she continued mercilessly, tears now rolling down her cheek, in anger, out of sheer powerlessness. “But my mother was _all_ I had, father.”

It had broken something in her father too. “How _dare_ you. Don’t pretend I don’t love you, don’t pretend I never loved your mother and don’t act like your stepmother and half-siblings haven’t treated you with warmth and love.”

“I don’t care,” Edelgard hissed. “You’re keeping my mother from me,” her voice was getting loud now and sounds of strained sobs were filling the room.

“I’m _not_ keeping her from you I’m protecting both of your lives,” her father shot back at her, only to realize he once more revealed something. “And that’s _all_ I’m telling you. Drop the subject, that’s an order.”

“ _Order?”_ Edelgard sputtered. She didn’t take orders from her father, she wasn’t a child, there weren’t rules.

And so she had not dropped the subject, not for many days.

Until she was hurting herself more with trying as her father seemed numb to her prying and accusing and simply would not budge.

The grief of what happened all those years ago kept surfacing and Edelgard truly started to realize what she had lost, how many years she had lost and how her future was so severely altered.

It was maddening and it kept her up throughout the night.

During the days she was too tired to function.

A little over a month later her family had grown so worried by her increasingly erratic behavior they had brought her to a doctor.

And then another, more specialized doctor.

A burnout, the woman had called it. A relatively fancy new term that Edelgard had found amusing, as her red Crest had been doing anything but ‘burn out’ lately, instead it was flaring up all the time again.

But no, a burnout was something like having neglected and suppressed too many negative feelings for a long time while constantly pushing yourself to keep on going.

Ah, so there had been a name for her way of living, that was nice she supposed.

But the doctor suggested her way of living should now contain much more rest and to let her pick up interests, hobbies and perhaps small jobs at her own pace. Anything from walks to small chores in the house would be a great start.

Edelgard’s ‘great start’ consisted of sleeping for two weeks straight, only leaving her room to eat. Sometimes she’d read, she had many books in her room she still wished to read.

After that she did start to go on walks, they were painful at first, the pangs of nostalgia of walking with her mother made it difficult. But the nature and even the less crowded alleys and streets were a familiar comfort.

Chores… were not something Edelgard was very adept at, and the household of Elanora had more servants than it knew what to do with, in Edelgard’s humble opinion.

But, bold as she was, she had asked them if she could help out.

They had been rather perplexed at her question, and even more reluctant to let her. It wasn’t her _job_ after all.

Only after Edelgard opened up a little about why she wanted to help out, to learn, to keep busy, to mingle with other people and to recover, did they seem to relax and the idea of letting her tag along seemed entertaining and fun to them

Edelgard thought she had the basic of most simple chores down.

The servants had been very kind and left her in this illusion for a whole three days, until she caught one of them straightening the sheets of a bed she thought she had straightened well enough herself.

Both she and the servant had felt caught and embarrassed and so the others were called in and they delicately explained to poor Edelgard that they had been trained to keep a certain standard, one which was admittedly a bit higher than what Elanora expected her house to look like, but they did so either way.

They had felt guilty for sidestepping Edelgard like that, as they had genuinely enjoyed her company and instead offered to let her assist with chores that required multiple people and simultaneously help her improve her own skills.

She had agreed happily, as by now she was well aware that the right nobility she was born into would not extend to her and once she would settle in a house of her own there likely wouldn’t be money for servants, especially not at first.

And so the days passed by, with Edelgard helping the servants a few hours on most days.

Finally she felt an odd sort of tranquility settle over her, as there was little pressure yet she still felt like she was learning things, and among enjoyable company no less.

She fairly quickly noticed something peculiar about that company though, and that was their speech.

Sure, every servant, maid, butler and cook was almost expected to gossip in private while maintaining perfect professionalism when in the presence of those they worked for, but the servants here seemed to have their own kind of language, one they spoke in while in Edelgard’s presence more and more often.

The odd thing was that while their words were all words Edelgard knew and understood, yet the sentences they made of it eluded her.

Worse, she heard them do it on occasion in front of her father, stepmother and half siblings too, completely inconspicuous, yet sometimes with a tug of a grin on one of their faces.

It seemed to be some kind of code language to Edelgard.

She subtly watched and listened to them for a few more days until her curiosity took control over her.

“You’re talking in some secret language,” she said bluntly once all four main servants and herself happened to be in the dining room together.

They had looked at her with confusion, even some mild fear.

“Uhm… I mean… you,” she said, pointing at a woman several years older than herself, “You told the gardener ‘blow me’ when he, rather crudely asked you to do some of his work. Things like that… it makes no sense,” she had muttered awkwardly, but she just couldn’t resist, she wanted to know.

The servants had stared at her for a long moment, after which they shared amused glances with one another only to burst into laughter shortly after.

“See, I told you she was real nobility, she’s just very versatile… and woefully innocent,” The same lady had grinned.

“Innocent?” Edelgard had sputtered. “I’m _not_ innocent.”

“Hmm, perhaps not, but your… vocabulary is, apparently.”

She shot them a curious, almost pleading look.

“Edelgard, do you want to know what ‘blow me’ really means?” the woman asked with clear mischief in her voice.

She nodded fervently.

…And blushed furiously once they told her, much to their amusement.

After much asking from Edelgard and them spilling the beans it became clear to Edelgard that instead of some secret code language the many servants of the house –and apparently those among other houses too- simply had found many creative ways to covertly express vulgarities without actually saying them.

It was as if a whole new world opened to Edelgard, who was suddenly _incredibly_ eager to learn this sacred wisdom from them, which they were delighted to share with her, on the promise she wouldn’t tell the rest of the household.

That only seemed natural to her.

A few months in she had an adept knowledge of how to say the most vulgar things, while each individual word sounded perfectly innocent and normal to a bystander who wasn’t in the know.

She never felt so powerful.

* * *

Even though she still couldn’t look her father in the eyes and her relationship with her other family had friction at times, her contact and budding friendships with the servants did Edelgard well, her step-mother thought it a little odd at first, but she wasn’t one to look down on servants, it was just a first to see someone actively befriend them and start doing their jobs without getting paid for it as well.

It helped Edelgard get out more, travel along with some of the servants that only came by once or twice a week to supply the house and chat with them while they did their rounds.

It was around this time, a few months after her twenty-fourth birthday, that a new servant came to work at the manor.

At first she seemed like all the others, if a bit clumsy.

But that was exactly the odd part about it, the clumsiness. She had the same degree and therefor training and skills as the others, yet she seemed to struggle with the tiniest details.

Oh, that was it. She _only_ got the tiniest details wrong.

Edelgard subtly watched her for about three days.

She’d place the teacup _just_ slightly off center on the saucer.

When watering the indoor plants she moved the pots just a finger’s breadth to the side, making a bit of the discoloration of the floor from age visible, but only if you really looked.

She left a painting hanging crooked on the wall, but it was only visible if you’d stand in front of it several steps away and took a moment to see if it was truly crooked or not. It took five days for someone else to notice it and put it straight again.

That, along with several other minor altered details led Edelgard to one conclusion.

“You’re messing with the household on purpose,” she told the servant bluntly one day when they were alone in the laundry room.

The young woman had looked at her, slowly taking her in, top to bottom and narrowed her eyes.

“Messing? Adding a bit of life, you mean,” she grinned. It was a perfectly innocent response and not admittance of guilt.

“Alright, why add ‘a bit if life’ to this place?” Edelgard persisted, too curious once again.

The servant gave it some thought, then shrugged. “My own little form of rebellion I suppose, it’s all harmless I assure you.” She put her finger to her lip and all of a sudden Edelgard thought the gesture made her look beautiful. “It’s the little things in life, you know. That make you happy.”

Now it was an admittance of guilt, and Edelgard’s interest was piqued.

During the weeks that followed Edelgard kept a close eye on the servant, curious to see what kind of small pranks and acts of rebellion she’d left in her wake.

Much to her surprise, the servant also started keeping an eye on her.

And soon the two of them wound up talking, mostly when they were alone.

Sometimes the woman would say things that made Edelgard fluster, yet she couldn’t put her finger on it.

They were compliments, yes. But… daring, occasionally borderline inappropriate.

Oh.

Was this the kind of flirting Dorothea had meant when she introduced herself to Edelgard now more than ten years ago?

Several subtle inquiries from Edelgard later it seemed it had indeed been flirting as she was now kissing the servant in the corner of the laundry room.

It was… exciting.

She wasn’t deluding herself into thinking she was harboring feelings of puppy love, but she certainly liked the servant, and the servant her as well, it seemed.

It was wrong and forbidden and inappropriate and Edelgard’s own form of rebellion.

Against all the people who never let her be herself.

Against her Crests that never let her be herself.

It relieved her of her inner turmoil regarding her mother, as she still couldn’t look her father in his eyes, out of resentment, out of guilt for lashing out.

This was something solely for herself.

And the servant.

It didn’t come much as a surprise to Edelgard when, after things started heating up between them, she found herself in bed with the other woman.

“Have you ever done this before?” she had asked kindly, just to tease an already flustered Edelgard a little extra.

“No, they don’t exactly teach you this particular skill at Church,” came her wry reply.

“And well, isn’t that mean of them. They’re missing out, and you have been too. Come,” she had gestured and Edelgard had begrudgingly but gratefully let herself be taught.

The fourth time they were caught… and not in Edelgard nor the servant’s own beds.

That proved to be a little problematic, to say the least.

Elenora was a devout believer –in her on unique way- and saw this as a rather personal betrayal, or a personal failure.

After a lot of yelling about how Edelgard was ungrateful and misbehaving and had crossed several lines she was confined to her room for the rest of the day.

When, around three in the morning, one of the other servants came to visit her for support and a very welcome snack Edelgard felt her heart stop when she was told the servant she had slept with had been fired on the spot and had already packed her things and left.

She had been so selfish. Not only had she been risking her own future in her silly act of rebellion, she had actively ruined the future of someone else while doing so.

Heaven’s know it’s difficult for a commoner to get a job with any prestige, degree or not, and surely she wouldn’t be getting any letters of recommendation anymore. No, in all likelihood what she and Edelgard had done would cling to her name wherever she would go.

Unless Edelgard would dig her own grave a little deeper and in turn give the servant another chance.

She snuck out before dawn, shoulder bag filled with whatever money she had kept in her room. She had a habit of keeping a part of her savings in her room ‘just in case the banks would fall’. She also might have stolen some of her step mother’s jewelry, but strictly only those Edelgard knew she hated and likely wouldn’t miss, which also looked generic and plain enough that they wouldn’t be recognized if they were sold around here.

Once she was on the road at the crack of dawn she realized she had no idea where to go, so she ended up spending a good while asking around. To others who knew her, several servant houses or places where she’d go for chores.

Finally she learned the servant was on her way to a village about two days from Enbarr by foot, and would likely spend the night at an inn less than a day’s walk from here.

A bit far, but not impossible.

So she walked, and walked and walked.

And felt more free than she had in years.

She wasn’t free, she knew that very well. But here on the road she could pretend that all the baggage and all the hurt she carried with her was gone for the time being, no one could call her out on it after all.

The inn appeared in the distance shortly before nightfall, and indeed the servant was there, and very surprised and not all that happy to see Edelgard.

“Why are you here?” she asked slightly wary.

“Because of you.”

The servant pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a weary sigh.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve come here to run away together or something because I canno-”

“No, no not at all,” Edelgard interrupted her hurriedly. “No, I came here because you’re here because of me… so I’m here because of you. To make amends.”

The servant quirked a brow. “Amends?”

“Yes, I’m not sure to what extend but I’m quite confident I ruined a good chunk of your future prospects,” Edelgard stated and the way the servant cast away her eyes for a moment told her she was right.

“So here,” she said and unceremoniously dropped a smaller back she had kept in her shoulder bad on the table. “The amends.”

The servant looked at it blankly.

“I’m not sure how much value it has, but you should be able to at least make it to another kingdom, or learn another trade, or forge a new identity,” Edelgard mumbled awkwardly.

When the servant took a subtle glance inside the bag she laughed. “Oh, I’ll be able to do all three of that… and then some. You really are a noble, aren’t you?”

“In some ways maybe… but in others I think I haven’t been very noble.”

“Well, it takes two to tango,” the servant grinned with a look of mischief. “Hmm, but this will get you in much more trouble, wouldn’t it?” she asked, much more serious now.

“Yes,” Edelgard admitted. “But I insist. I’ve been steadily undoing my future for some time now, and I’m confident I will end up somewhere… decent. I simply could not live with myself knowing I had ruined another’s future with my hubris.”

“Well, that right there is very noble of you,” the servant had told her earnestly and Edelgard did blush now, because the compliment made her feel slightly less of a horrible person.

She felt like a horrible person again when she came to the conclusion she had just handed all her money to the servant and was now faced with the prospect of traveling back to Enbarr in the dark or asking the servant to pay for a night at the inn.

“Idiot,” the servant had laughed. “Well, of course I will, dinner is on me too. I’m rich now after all.”

And so Edelgard slept next to her for the first time, in separate beds as both were of the opinion that that particular adventure had ended.

In the morning they parted ways with a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Edelgard felt a pang of loss when she watched the servant, one of her last remaining allies, disappear into the distance, and with a sigh she began to make her own way back to Enbarr.

When she arrived there she was –as expected- in much deeper trouble than when she had left.

Her father had come home in the meantime and had been beyond worry, having heard of Edelgard asking after the whereabouts of the servant and had concluded she might truly have been running away with her.

But now that she was home his worry turned into anger rather quickly.

Unhinged, he called her. A danger to herself and unpredictable. Living here wasn’t good for her any longer, she needed a calm and safe place to stay. Somewhere with order and structure where she’d cultivate meaningful skills under the guidance of those who could help her.

She knew where this was going.

The Monastery.

And she fought him tooth and nail because she did _not_ want to go there.

They stayed in limbo about this for some time, until the letter came.

The very official letter from their local and very official Church.

Edelgard’s twenty-fifth birthday was coming up, the day one becomes legal to marry, yet they have concerns about how suitable she currently is for marriage, considering recent affairs.

Ah so they heard, then.

And it wasn’t as if she was unknown to them, they had been long suspicious of her two Crests, yet Edelgard had always managed to make it seem like they were functioning perfectly fine whenever they had checked them.

And much to their dismay there was no law that forbid someone with two Crests to get married… for now.

As they certainly saw it as a curse.

So roughly a week later she and her very nervous father found themselves in what felt like a court room, with two aging men conducting a conversation with her while an official jurist from the Church would give the final verdict.

She stayed silent and answered politely only when prompted for the most part.

But then these two bastards had the audacity to go into a discussion with each other about the matter of her ‘purity’

As premarital sex was a bit of a no go when it came to the Church, who sanctioned all marriages, and sex with another woman was equally condemned.

But when you combine the two… did it mean she actually had sex?

She almost hissed in annoyance when she understood what they were discussing, if her ‘intercourse with another woman’ truly counted as a loss of purity.

And they didn’t consult her, no they just spoke as if she wasn’t right there with them.

“May I offer some personal insights?” she tried politely.

They looked at her with barely masked contempt. “Well, young lady, that’s hardly necessary, we are the experts here after all.”

Ah yes, two old men, the epitome of experts of her sleeping with another woman.

“I merely wanted to provide the additional fact that during my, ah… intercourse nothing actually entered me… if you understand what I mean,” she tried tactfully. Out of hope it might help, out of spite as well. She was also lying.

Both men sputtered and made it clear her ‘additional fact’ was not appreciated. Beside her, her father paled.

It didn’t take the nice orderlies much longer to conclude that, even if it strictly speaking might not have been intercourse, the fact that she’d do this with a woman could have meant she had also done it with a man. Either way, it spoke volumes for her general behavior, and this along with a long list of ‘incidents’ recorded by the Church made it very clear what the verdict was going to be.

Edelgard wanted to have the last word here though, if her fate was going to be sealed she wanted it to be her who did the sealing.

“You know what spoke volumes?” she bristled “The seven orgasms I had while I was having sex that didn’t count as sex, apparently.”

Next to her, her father sucked in a breath, along with an audible gasp and he had to struggle not to cough as he looked at her wide eyed.

Four minutes later she got the stamp

Considered unmarriageable.

Without another word she had briskly walked out the courtroom and out of the Church as well, with her father trailing behind her, stuck between sorrow, confusion and anger.

“Did you have to do that?” he finally asked her once they were a good few minutes away from the Church.

“I didn’t do anything, it’s everyone else who has always decided my fate for me. I have never been in control of my own life and I never will be.” She looked her father in the eyes, the accusation she was feeling visible in them. “So yes, if I can find something, even the tiniest thing to do for myself, to make myself feel real and free, I do it.”

Her father’s anger had vanished after that, and instead only the sorrow for not being able to be there for his child, for being unable to save her from her uncle, for not working harder to get through to her and find what made her happy and real and free, was what remained.

Edelgard looked at him once more. “So, when am I to depart for the Monastery?”

Her father looked surprised. “Uhm, if we send your application today you can start along with the new semester, which starts the first of August. So a little over a month from now, as you’d likely want to be there a few days before everything starts.”

Edelgard nodded. “Let’s get that letter out today then.”

* * *

And so here she was, in the carriage, at the end of July, looking out of the window for the first time in a few hours and was met with the ancient beauty that was Garreg Mach, the towers shimmering in the light, where it was built halfway into a mountain. Beneath it was a village, which her carriage was now entering.

Half an hour later Edelgard was led out of the carriage and met by two… nuns? Faculty members? She’d have to find out later. She was slightly awestruck by the gigantic, ancient and beautiful architecture surrounding her now, most of all the beacon that was the Cathedral.

As she was past the age of general schooling but still here for classes she’d be taking several individual classes along with other people her age to ‘top off their education’ in order to find a specialization. Edelgard was a little worried about this as her specialization mostly consisted of accidentally setting things on fire.

But that wasn’t a full curriculum so aside from that she’d enter Garreg Mach as a nun, or she’d have to learn to be one at first, she guessed. She hoped…

She was told her personal belongings would be taken to her private room, to which she’d be shown later.

Because of her official status as nun she was first taken to a large hall in the Cathedral, where there seemed to be a gathering of nuns, holy knights, teachers and other religious officials. As the two nuns –she had figured out they were nuns now- introduced her to some of the people she’d be interacting with from now on, teachers, bishops and the other nuns, her eyes roamed around the imposing hall.

A moment later her eyes fell on an equally imposing figure in the distance. A woman with uniquely green hair which fell to her waist, while being dressed to the details in what couldn’t be anything but holy and sacred attires. She looked beautiful, Edelgard could see that from afar. But… beautiful like a painting or a statue, something to be admired from afar yet never to find them personally beautiful.

Yes, this was the Holy Saint of Garreg Mach. Lady Rhea, the Archbishop, there was no doubt about it.

She had been talking some other seemingly important members of the Church, yet only a few seconds after Edelgard’s eyes had landed on her she abruptly turned her head and looked Edelgard straight in the eyes.

Out of politeness Edelgard averted her gaze, not wanting to invoke the anger of the most important person in all of Garreg Mach on her first day.

Much to her dismay, and equally odd as well, her Crest decided to act up right this moment. Surprisingly it was the green one, and while it warmed her like it usually did there was also the subtlest breeze circling her.

Which was new.

She felt some sort of tug in her mind and without thinking her eyes looked for the Archbishop again, who was now… a lot closer, having walked halfway through the hall into her direction.

But now she was standing still and staring at Edelgard and _oh._

Edelgard knew that look, that was the look of someone who had already heard of her, Edelgard’s –often inaccurate- stories often preceded her, and who was now determined to find a personal reason to dislike her and match it with whatever bad thing they had already heard about her.

The Archbishop continued her path and, as expected, her trail ended right in front of Edelgard.

“Sisters,” she spoke sweetly, almost motherly. “May I borrow this young lady from you for a while?”

“Lady Rhea,” one spoke, slightly startled. “Of course, but we haven’t finished showing her around, she hasn’t even been given the proper attire yet.”

The Saint smiled gently. “Oh, that is no problem, I shall see to that.” She turned to Edelgard and she caught a flicker of something less pleasant in her eyes. “Now, if you would follow me?”

It wasn’t a question so Edelgard only nodded and followed.

The Holy Saint didn’t say another word as Edelgard awkwardly tried to match her pace, which spoke volumes about how pleased the woman was with her already. It didn’t help she had no idea how to properly treat someone of such a high status. She had met her great-grandfather, the king, only twice and seeing as no one had fallen to their knees while mumbling ‘your majesty’ without making eye-contact, that particular experience didn’t really seem helpful.

At one point the holy woman stilled and Edelgard was so much in a daze she took another two steps before realizing it.

When she took in her surroundings she realized they were in another fairly luxurious and spacious room, red draperies lining the tall windows and an equally red carpet on the ground. To her side she saw two double doors wide open, with behind them what seemed to be numerous clothes, uniforms, religious attires hanging on coat hangers. The dressing room them.

Turning around she accidentally met the gaze of the Archbishop again, who now definitely looked at her with an aura of suspicion and distaste.

It irked Edelgard, if the woman had found something to dislike about her she could at least have the decency to tell her what that was, so Edelgard could either confirm or deny it, or maybe just shed some light on it, give the full picture.

“Have I wronged you somehow, milady?” she asked, a hint of defiance in her voice.

The green haired woman’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before narrowing even more than they already had. “Your file,” she said stiffly. “It said your Crest was unknown.”

Edelgard nodded. Of course, a Holy Saint would find a problem with her Crests, she should have expected that.

The woman pursed her lips. “I assumed it was because no one had bothered to check and write it down, seeing as your application came rather last minute.”

“My apologies, it was a rather swift decision, but it is the truth I’m afraid.”

The Archbishop made an offended sound. “No, _that’s_ where you’re lying. Did you truly think _I_ of all people wouldn’t be able to tell?” she spoke harshly.

The sudden change in tone and clear accusation baffled Edelgard. “I’m sorry, _what?_ ” she all but blurted out.

Lady Rhea’s expression got both more emotionless and more angry both at once somehow.

“Your Crest is _my_ Crest, girl.” Her voice was now so thin and cold it made Edelgard shiver. “And that is something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Well, whatever Edelgard had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. The Crest of a Saint? No, Saints didn’t have Crests, they didn’t need them, they were divine on their own. At a loss of words she stared at the woman, whose patience was clearly waning rapidly, in confusion.

And finally Edelgard fell back on her last remaining survival tactic, the one she had told her father about so many years ago.

“Uhm… I’m sorry, would you like me to give it back to you?”

The way the Archbishop’s nostrils flared told her that her poor attempt at lightening up the mood didn’t work as intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crying* Finally made it to Rhea 
> 
> I can't pace for shit, all this worldbuilding.  
> Also I spend so much time creating half a world from scratch because I didn't want to go for the student/teacher angle because ehhhh, only to FUCKING realize I could just have send Edelgard there as a nun instead of a student at the end of this chapter.  
> Autism, not even once.


	5. Divinely human

“Uhm… I’m sorry, would you like me to give it back to you?”

The way the Archbishop’s nostrils flare tell Edelgard that her poor attempt at lightening up the mood didn’t work as she’d hoped.

The other woman sighs wearily. “Let me rephrase what I said,” she says sternly “How did you get my Crest, Miss von Hresvelg?”

Edelgard was now feeling increasingly out of her depth and frankly, quite scared.

“Uhm, it was a birthday gift from my parents, you could say,” she responded sheepishly. “Although the word ‘present’ can be debated, it’s been more of a curse most of my life really,” she muttered, almost out of habit.

“ _A curse?”_ Lady Rhea bristles with only slightly subdued anger.

Ah, right. Calling what is now possibly a divine Crest a curse might have not been the best thing to do.

“Sorry,” Edelgard murmurs. “I meant no offense, it’s just that… well it’s a long story and most of it wasn’t very easy on me I guess.”

At that the Archbishop seems to soften slightly. “I’ll want to hear that story, no matter how long it may be,” she says and Edelgard senses that declining is definitely not an option. “But first let’s do what we actually came here for,” Lady Rhea continues and points to the dressing room. “Find a uniform that fits you and I’ll have spares send to your room.”

Edelgard nods tentatively before making her way through the doors, relieved to be able to put some distance between herself and the imposing woman for now.

After she closes the doors behind her she takes in the rows full of uniforms on hangers lining the walls. They looks somewhere between what she’d expected from a religious academy and something slightly more… military. As if the Monastery cherishes ranks.

Ah well.

She finds the uniforms meant for a nun of a low rank such as herself quickly enough and after finding her size she puts on the top.

A quick glance reveals that there are both knee length skirts and shorts. She likes skirts but she’s been long taught to hide her scars and also has learned not to trust fabrics that can move on their own, such as with an unsuspecting gust of wind, or whenever she inadvertently flips her legs a certain way whenever she exerts too much power on accident.

No up-skirts for her, thank you very much.

So shorts it is, along with tights. She finds those in various colors and she’s sure they must a specialty or denote rank as well but she doesn’t have the slightest idea which color stands for what so she ends up going with red. Might as well add another color that stands out. The rest of her uniform is mostly black with the odd golden details scattered anyway.

Checking in the nearby mirror and deciding that it looks well enough… perhaps even something that suits her, she heads back through the doors.

And stumbles onto what is clearly a very impatient Archbishop who might just have been glaring daggers at the closed doors the whole time Edelgard was inside.

Either way, once she lays eyes on Edelgard she instantly begins glaring daggers at _her._

A few tense moments pass.

“ _No,”_ the Archbishop tells her curtly, a slight grimace on her face.

If the woman hadn’t succeeded in making Edelgard feel small and insecure she’s certainly done it now. “What?” she asks confusedly. “What did I do wrong?”

“The pants.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Edelgard asks, still confused and glances down at them.

“They are part of the _men’s_ uniform,” Lady Rhea says sharply, her voice thin and her patience clearly rapidly dwindling.

“Oh,” Edelgard mutters awkwardly. Rookie mistake, she supposes. “I’ll go change then,” she relents and turns around to head back into the changing room.

But then the Archbishop says something that makes her stop in her tracks.

“Good,” the woman says dismissively. “Just be a well behaved, obedient girl from now and stay. In. Line.”

It’s the way the woman says it. So contemptuous and condescending. So reassured that Edelgard has no choice to obey her.

And while Edelgard has no problem following the established rules she can’t stomach the thought of being controlled by someone. Not again, not like this.

“Actually, I’m keeping them on if it’s all the same to you,” she says calmly as she slowly turns back around and meets the Archbishop’s gaze head-on.

To her surprise the other woman doesn’t seem all that offended. Instead it’s more as if she’s suddenly unsure of herself and almost curious to see this turn of events happening, as if she hasn’t experienced someone disobeying her in such a long time she finds the whole scenario more intriguing than offending.

But her softness doesn’t last.

Because then her anger kicks in.

“You what? No, you will change.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

“No.”

Lady Rhea glares at her. “Change,” she orders again.

Edelgard crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, retaining eye-contact all the while.

“No.”

The Saint’s eyes widen slightly in surprise now, struggling with how to cope at hitting a wall like this. “You’re not actually being serious, are you?” she tries.

“I am. And if you are serious in wanting these pants of you’ll have to take them off yourself.”

Now Lady Rhea looks a different kind of surprised, flustered even, and it takes Edelgard a long moment to figure out why.

Oh, _fuck_. That really didn’t sound good did it?

She opens her mouth to take back her words, to explain that the rather unfortunate implications were an accidental side effect.

“You ill-mannered rat,” Lady Rhea sneers before Edelgard can say anything.

So she simply closes her mouth again and just glares at the other woman some more.

“Insolent girl,” the Saint bristles. “Are you genuinely going to make a point out of this?”

Edelgard half wonders if she’s about to be expelled from the monastery or if Rhea is more bark than bite and is simply having an anger tantrum for not getting her way like she’s accustomed to.

She decides to go with it being the latter.

“Sometimes you got to fight for the little things in life,” she shrugs. “They can be important in the long run.”

Momentarily the Saint looks as if she’s feeling more emotions than she can handle, but then she seems to concede, almost as if she can understand the merit in someone standing up for themselves over something seemingly nonsensical.

“Fine. Be that way.”

Now Edelgard feels slightly at a loss. “Oh, really?”

Rhea glares at her once more. “Yes. If you want to make a fool of yourself then be my guest, making sure you wear the correct attire isn’t my usual job either way,” she explains in that condescending tone that makes the hairs on the back of Edelgard’s neck rise. “Just don’t come crawling back if you can’t handle the stares of other people.”

“Oh trust me, I’m quite used to people staring,” Edelgard retorts, unable to keep the satisfaction from her voice.

That might be the first thing she has said to Lady Rhea that the woman actually seems to enjoy hearing, as a tiny, amused smile blooms on her face. “Well, that makes two of us then,” she says with just a hint of warmth in her voice.

Ah, yes. Edelgard supposes the Saint also has quite some experience with being stared at, although likely from a far more positive angle.

Still, she returns the smile.

A moment later Rhea turns serious again. “Now, can you summon your Crest for me?” she asks, suddenly looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Yes, I suppose I owe you that,” Edelgard responds. “Uh, which one?”

“I’m sorry what?” Rhea asks confusedly.

“Oh, I’m guessing that wasn’t in my file then either,” Edelgard explains awkwardly. “I uh… was born with two Crests.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I agree, yet the white hair and the fact they were ashen black and not functioning when I was born also shouldn’t be possible, so I’m the living proof it is possible. You’re free to run background checks on that, I’m confident the Churches I attended have thoroughly documented me.”

Rhea seems to contemplate her words and ultimately decides Edelgard likely isn’t lying. “I want to hear every last detail of this later,” she tells Edelgard and while it again doesn’t sound like a question Edelgard feels she can understand the need of the other woman to get to the bottom of what must be an unorthodox enigma for a holy Saint. “But uh, could you summon mine first?”

“I don’t know which one is yours, Lady Rhea,” Edelgard tells her sheepishly. “I have a green and a red one, perhaps that narrows it down?” she tries helpfully.

“The green one,” Rhea says with confidence.

Edelgard nods. “Alright then.”

She raises her hand with her palm facing upright and with thoroughly practiced effort she summons the sigil of her green Crest.

It took her so long to be able to summon them with a stable glow, as those who liked to examine her would tear apart even the slightest of flickers in the light, she still feels an odd sort of pride when she says the familiar pattern light up above her hand.

Her eyes catch those of Lady Rhea when she looks past her sigil and the sight of the woman is almost enough to make the light above her hand flicker as her focus to summon them momentarily falters.

The Saint looks so mesmerized and it occurs to Edelgard that no one has ever looked at her Crest with such… warmth and reverence, as if she and her Crest were something nice and delightful to behold. It was always cold curiosity without a hint of kindness behind it.

“I’ve never seen my Crest on someone else,” Rhea murmurs and a soft expression settles on her face. “No humans should even know what my Crest… no my _soul_ looks like.”

The words hit a cord in Edelgard’s heartstrings. It sounds… lonely and she feels a surge of wishing she could take away the loneliness of a being so divine.

“I’ve never met anyone who had my Crest either, and until just now I believed I was the only one,” Edelgard finds herself saying with a newfound feeling of vulnerability she doesn’t really mind having.

“Well, now we know you’re not the only one,” Rhea says softly, still entranced by seeing her own Crest. “As that’s without a doubt my Crest you are summoning there.”

The Saint extends her hand only to retract it quickly and place it on her own chest. “Uhm, may I?” she asks, as touching someone else while they are summoning their Crest is considered rather impolite, it always feels a strange kind of personal.

“Of course,” Edelgard says easily. Most scientists and doctors she has met throughout her life hardly ever asked, so it doesn’t really bother her anymore if someone does. Still, it’s nice to be asked.

Extremely tentatively, almost fearfully, Rhea reaches her hand out again.

For some reason she doesn’t touch the light of Edelgard’s glowing sigil, the usual way of gathering information about someone’s magic, but gently places her hand on top of Edelgard, as if she’s accepting an invitation to dance.

Mere moments after her hand finds that of Edelgard’s is clear that whatever the Saint was trying to achieve, the results are evidently not what she was expecting.

The effects are instant for Rhea, yet Edelgard is left with precious seconds to see what happens to the other woman.

There is that familiar green glow, now not just coming from Edelgard’s own summoned Crest but also from _all_ of Rhea.

The woman glowing in a warm green light that suddenly feels achingly familiar to Edelgard. The feelings are taking her over, seeping in from where her hand is still touching Rhea’s and the intense and almost pleasurable heat scorching through her body makes it hard to focus on anything but that feeling.

Still she feels the distinct sensation of Lady Rhea’s hand grasping her own tightly, almost painfully. It helps Edelgard regain her focus momentarily and instantly she searches for Rhea’s face.

Ah.

No matter how human the Archbishop looks, it turns out that the woman encompasses the divine after all.

She’s breathtaking in a way that Edelgard cannot describe. An odd dichotomy between achingly vulnerable and frightfully powerful.

Almost on instinct she searches for the woman’s eyes and there she finds both the vulnerability and power mixed into one. Her eyes are wide open, yet unfocused, while her pupils are dilated, her mouth slightly agape. Somehow the flush in her cheeks and the way her hair suddenly seems slightly less perfect make her look both more human and more divine.

When the Archbishop becomes aware of the both of them gazing at each other something akin to recognition flickers through her green eyes. She opens her mouth as if to speak but quickly closes it again, instead giving Edelgard a look that’s almost pleading.

She’s trapped in whatever has the both of them spellbound, it seems. It’s as if some sort of connection is being established between the two of them and Lady Rhea has no clue what to do, or what is even happening.

Edelgard too feels unable to let go, the thought of the spell being broken is enough to make her feel fear. Instead she squeezes Rhea’s hand in hers and smiles at her, careful but reassuring.

Apparently Edelgard’s feeble attempt at reassuring Rhea acts as a lifeline to the other woman and suddenly she feels herself being almost roughly pulled closer.

A moment later she bumps into the Archbishop’s body and before she can make sense of the situation an arm snakes around her waist and pulls her tightly against Rhea.

When she feels the Saint lean her head onto her own shoulder, almost as if she needs to if she wants to remain upright, Edelgard too loses herself to this intense new sensation.

The other woman is so warm against her.

She tries to speak but finds she can only pant and gasp for air instead, it would have made her feel embarrassed under normal circumstances, another form of losing control she normally so loathes, but right now she can barely think. All she can do is feel. And whatever this is, it feels _good._ Right, even.

And besides, even in her near delirious state she can still hear and feel Rhea pant heavily against her shoulder. With barely a shred of coherence she places her free hand on the Saint’s back and begins to stroke it in slow circles, eliciting a pleased whimper from the woman which makes Edelgard feel alive in a way that she has no words for to describe.

They remain like this for somewhere in between a second and all of eternity, lost within each other and without being able to think.

But even eternity doesn’t last forever.

Suddenly a tremor runs through the Archbishop and she gasps for air. The hand on Edelgard’s waist grabs the fabric of her clothes roughly, remains utterly still for a moment until the Archbishop finds some sort of control back and violently pulls Edelgard away from herself, lifting her own head from where it was leaning on Edelgard’s shoulder.

With clumsy desperation she takes a wobbly step back and, after hesitation just a moment, lets go of Edelgard’s hand.

It feels as if all of Edelgard’s feelings are yanked right out of her, along with the air in her lungs, and now she’s left with a hollow emptiness and the dull aching feeling of loss. The pain this causes her instinctively invokes her anger, her body not understanding why it feels this deep pain all of a sudden.

Yet when she looks up and sees the state the Archbishop is in her anger evaporates.

Edelgard only has to look at the woman’s eyes to see she’s utterly terrified and desperate to make sense of everything, of herself.

Edelgard takes a step closer, impulsively reaching out her hand in attempt to comfort the frightened woman. “It’s alright,” she tries saying, yet her voice is so hoarse it croaks. “We’re alright,” she tries again with a small smile. No matter how confused and scared she feels she can’t help wanting to comfort the other woman.

Lady Rhea sadly doesn’t take kindly to her words. Instead her nostrils flare and she takes another step backwards to increase the distance between them.

No matter what she might be feeling, perhaps the same aching feeling of loss that Edelgard currently feels, her anger –born out of fright- takes over.

“ _What did you do?”_ she snarls, the fear in her voice evident.

To Edelgard she just looks like a feral yet terrified animal desperate to get away.

“I didn’t do anything,” she responds, her voice somewhat back under her control, despite still being out of breath. “I don’t know what happened either.”

Rhea takes her in for a moment, with her pupils still dilated and panting slightly.

It seems she finally realizes what just happened and that it was indeed her magic reaching out to Edelgard, or whatever it was.

“I… I have to go,” she all but stammers and takes another few steps back. “But later,” she continues breathlessly. “I’ll come back on this. I… I need to find out some things… sorry.”

And with that she turns around and hurries out the door and into the maze of halls and corridors behinds it before Edelgard can come up with a single word to yell after her.

She needs several moments to regain her bearings, to make sense of just what happened. Without having done it consciously she realizes her hand is clutching her chest tightly and she still struggles to catch her breath.

What just happened?

That feeling of aching and almost crushing loneliness is still weighing heavily on her heart, and it’s almost enough to make her cry.

Even worse, the feeling seems to be getting stronger.

She needs to get away, to be alone, to sleep, to think.

She can’t be seen like this.

Stuck in a daze she attempts to make her way to the dormitories, to her personal room. She knows what the building looks like and also that she’s currently in the wrong building so after having left through the same door Rhea had done moments earlier she begins her journey to get out of this maze of a building.

Soon she sees windows, meaning that surely a door to get outside is near.

It takes her but a few minutes to find the entrance of the building she’s in and a moment later she’s outside.

After that she simply follows the outdoor paths until she spots the dormitories in the distance.

Moments later, with the door of her room safely locked behind her, she lets herself fall on her bed. When her face hits the pillow it soon becomes apparent to her that she had been crying, the evidence of wetness on her pillow says it all.

She stays like that for quite some time, either falling into short restless slumbers or laying on her back and wondering why she feels so hurt inside.

It isn’t until hunger got the best of her that she finally manages to make herself leave her room again.

She struggles for some time to find the way to the dining hall herself before giving up and asking one of the nuns passing her by where the dining hall is and she soon finds herself there. The smell of food is comforting, yet she still can’t get herself to feel at ease around other people so after she hurriedly filled her plate with food, with some extra that would count as breakfast she scurries back to her room, her little safe haven, like some kind of rat.

After having eaten she takes to unpacking some of her belongings. She had made sure to take many books and odd trinkets from the time she had lived with her mother along with her to Garreg mach.

The first thing she hangs onto the wall are two pinned praying mantids covered in a glass plate. A male and a female of a large green species native only to tropical regions, they had been her favorites growing up.

Her books go onto the bookshelf, although she’ll have to sort them more efficiently later as the dull ache in her heart still makes her terribly restless.

Despite having napped earlier she suddenly realizes she’s thoroughly exhausted and after having put on her nightgown she all but slumps down onto her bed, struggling to even make the effort to get under the blankets.

Moments later sleep mercifully overcomes her and soon she falls into a dreamless slumber.

She’d wake up with tears in her eyes two more times during the night, the aching loneliness still throbbing painfully along with her heartbeat.

* * *

The following day end up being dreadful from morning to evening.

Despite having slept long she hardly feels rested, yet at nine one of the nuns –Mercedes turned out to be her name- had come to fetch her for breakfast followed by and extenstive a tour of the monastery and all its facilities.

Mercedes is kind and patient, and the things she’s explaining to Edelgard are either genuinely interesting or important for her to know if she wants to get familiar with the ins and outs of Garreg Mach.

Yet Edelgard feels so uselessly restless, almost nervous even, and she’s continuously struggling to keep on her mask of kindness and eager interest, feelings which she cannot possibly feel genuinely with the mess that are her current thoughts and feelings.

The strangest thing is that the lonely and painful ache in her heart keeps… changing, seemingly at random. Sometimes the ache would get stronger, to the point it was throbbing along with her pulse, and then an hour later or so it would be almost the opposite, as if she was _missing_ the feeling and that causes a whole different feeling of loss within her.

Either way, it’s trying very hard to drive her into despair.

During lunch she began to feel as if she was rapidly approaching her limit and ended up admitting to Mercedes she had a very rough night behind her and was also experiencing anxiety and stress because of personal matters, after which Mercedes called it a day and kindly told her to get some sleep in before dinner.

Edelgard had gratefully done as she was told.

A little while later she found herself laying on her bed, yet sleep wouldn’t come.

Her thoughts drifted to what had transpired the previous afternoon.

That feeling. It had been unlike anything else she had ever felt, or even heard or read about.

She couldn’t put it into words, yet her body certainly could relate it to other experiences it had experienced and it was quite adamant in telling Edelgard that it was very similar to sexual pleasure.

As shameful as it was to admit such a thought, it also didn’t quite feel right.

Still, she considered it. The Church always described sex as something purely physical with a touch of the transcendent.

And this? This had felt more like the opposite, then. Something purely transcendent with just a touch of the physical to invoke it.

That… was a way of wording what she had felt earlier in a much less shameful way, this she could deal with and it also made more sense. Crests were a physical manifestation of the soul, which was transcendent, so if Edelgard truly possessed a Crest of a Saint that might have been why their Crests resonated the way they had.

And perhaps that was also why her Crests never worked properly. A Saint had a different soul than a human, so a human with the Crest of a Saint would surely have trouble using it correctly, as the physical manifestation of her soul that allowed her to use magic, the Crest, wasn’t actually human and didn’t match Edelgard’s soul. Almost as if her magic and her soul spoke a different language, or maybe her Crests distorted the magic in her soul and it just manifested wrong whenever she tried to summon it.

What a mess.

Lost deep in thought she eventually manages to doze off, only to be woken again a few hours later by a pang of hunger and the now almost familiar pang of loneliness.

After noticing it was time for dinner she all but dragged herself to the dining hall where she found Mercedes already seated.

This time Edelgard decided to say and eat with her. Perhaps some company would do her good, and if not it would be a pleasant distraction at the very least.

And it was, Mercedes was relaxing to talk with and had no issue with being patient and giving Edelgard the time she needed to become less tense and speak a little more easily.

Almost did she forget the ache in her heart until suddenly it made its presence very clear inside her once more.

It was almost physically painful now, as if something dangerous was so close but still not close enough for Edelgard’s heart to be soothed. She notices the eyes of the two nuns sitting across the table from her staring at something behind her.

Oh no.

Not something.

_Someone._

She doesn’t need to turn around anymore to know who is behind her, as suddenly the aching feeling that has been haunting her for the past day and a half make perfect sense.

Along with why they fluctuated so strangely.

It’s the proximity between Edelgard and Lady Rhea, the latter who is now most definitely standing behind her, she can feel it in every cell of her body.

“Miss von Hresvelg,” comes the calm but calculated voice from behind her, prompting Edelgard to finally turn around to indeed be met with the sight of the Archbishop. “Would you be so kind as to follow me?” the woman asks her, this time much more gentle, even tentative as last time.

Edelgard gulps and nods weakly, not trusting her voice, before standing up.

Half of her wants to desperately run away, to just get as far away from Garreg Mach as she could.

The other half tells her plainly that that’s simply impossible, as her soul is tied to that of Lady Rhea’s and the mere thought of willingly creating distance between the two of them feels utterly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? You thought I'd write normal romance and sexual tension? Well fuck you! It's gonna be Crest shenanigans again, muaha.
> 
> But first these two are going through mutual pining hell while practicing the fine art of Social distancing. 
> 
> Did not really want to go for tomboy Edelgard, but I always really liked she was the only girl to wear pants in the game, as her own little silent form of rebellion and I like the idea of a nun in shorts. 
> 
> Also I'm going to spam ya'all with mantis facts, as I'm going to weave the symbolism of the little fuckers into my story. Expect to be educated!


	6. Tell her I said hii.

Her feelings are a complete and utter mess as she nervously follows the Archbishop, who is walking a few paces in front of her without saying a single word, making everything just that extra bit more tense for Edelgard.

A big part of her feelings consist of her survival instincts harshly kicking in and telling her to get the hell away from this woman who is acting as some sort of gravitational pull for her emotions. The closer she is to her, the more desperate she is to get away lest she gets sucked into the vortex.

Another part of her is practically begging her to close the distance between them and just let herself be consumed by the hubris that is sure to follow.

These two conflicting needs aren’t helping easing her nerves at all and instead she feels fairly close to pleading Lady Rhea to just say what she has to say and get it over with before Edelgard dies of anxiety.

Because surely whatever it is the Archbishop wants to tell her, it cannot possibly be anything good.

Perhaps the woman will just turn Edelgard to a pile of ash the moment they’re alone.

Inadvertently she gulps. Hopefully it will be quick and painless.

She’s so deep in thought she completely forgets to keep an eye on the woman in front of her and so she fails to notice Rhea has stopped and is in the process of opening a door to her side.

“Miss von Hresvelg,” she hisses sharply, causing Edelgard to snap out of her daze and promptly realize she was about to bump into the other woman.

The weight of her almost-mistake abruptly hits her, as she really doesn’t want to touch the Saint again, who is looking at her with a displeased scowl.

“Shit, sorry,” she stammers stiffly before realizing her inappropriate choice of words in front of a holy woman. “Uh, I don’t mean shit, I just mean sorry,” she tries correcting herself. “I just mean I didn’t mean to say that word,” she finishes lamely.

Lady Rhea takes her sweet time to scowl at Edelgard with thinly veiled distaste, increasing the already tense atmosphere between them even more. “Just watch your step, please,” she says curtly and with little patience. “And if you could go inside?” she continues as she gestures towards the now open doors leading towards a small room.

Edelgard nods demurely and awkwardly makes her way into the room, which seems to be a small conference room with nothing but a round table surrounded by a few chairs.

A perfect place for an impromptu execution, she thinks to herself as she wills herself to stop from bailing.

“Please take a seat,” comes the voice behind her when Edelgard remains hovering uncertainly near the door.

She does as ordered and picks one of the seats at random. Only when she’s sitting down does Rhea enter the room as well and picks a chair exactly two seats away from Edelgard, much to her relief. The thought of being within reach to touch the other woman is nerve wracking to her.

Rhea sits up straight and folds her hands delicately on the table, the perfect picture of elegance and divinity.

There is a long silence in the room as the green haired woman stares at the wall in front of her with a stoic expression on her face, seemingly deep in thought until she seems to remember she’s in the company of someone else and all but snaps her head sideways to look Edelgard in the eyes, who has to use every ounce of her willpower not to cower and avert her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the Headmistress says, slightly too loud and not as elegant as Edelgard would have expected from her. “For the other day I mean,” she adds a little too rushed. “My behavior, it was… inappropriate for an Archbishop.”

Well, that really wasn’t the direction Edelgard thought this conversation was going. She glances at the other woman with a little more inquisitive curiosity and it occurs to her that ‘the perfect picture of elegance’ Edelgard first considered her to be isn’t all that elegant at all, honestly she looks more tense and stiff now that Edelgard is paying attention more closely. It isn’t until she catches Lady Rhea subtly fidgeting with her fingers –carefully masked by how she folded her hands- that Edelgard realizes the other woman is also very tense, if not plainly nervous.

It eases away some of her own nerves.

“It was a bit odd, I suppose,” she says and then hurriedly adds, “what happened I mean, not your behavior.” She’s not too keen on upsetting the other woman, especially not if she’s tense.

The Saint gives her a small smile. “Yes, about what happened… you’ll have to forgive me but I did some digging into your past. Just the records kept in the churches you attended that were available to me, as you suggested,” she explains with what seems just the tiniest bit of guilt.

Edelgard merely gives a dismissive shrug. “It would hardly be the first time someone did that.”

“Ah, well I suppose one gets used to that sort of thing,” she hums almost elusively. “Either way, everything you said checked out,” the Archbishop continues carefully and then pauses for a moment. “Your past combined with what I know about Crests and well… what transpired the other day has led me to draw some concerning conclusions,” she explains with visible hesitation.

“Concerning conclusions?” Edelgard repeats as worry grows in her stomach.

Rhea shifts in her seat, still looking just a little too perfect to seem natural. “Tell me, what do you know about Crests?”

“They’re a blessing from the Goddess bestowed on mankind,” Edelgard says without missing a beat. It’s the default answer she learned a long time ago is appreciated by everyone affiliated with the Church.

The Archbishop too seems to appreciate the response, yet Edelgard doesn’t miss the hint of an amused smile tugging on her lips. “Very good, miss Hresvelg. I see you are a very dutiful believer.”

Edelgard can only respond with a sheepish smile, not entirely sure if the Saint is being sarcastic or genuinely pleased with her response.

“That’s not what I meant though,” the woman utters with a secretive hum. “What I meant was if you knew why mankind has them.”

“Oh,” Edelgard mumbles awkwardly. “Uh…” she tries as she desperately wracks her brain trying to remember if she ever heard such a reason. Sadly it’s in vain and with an apologetic smile she shakes her head. “I’m afraid my…. conflicting relationship with Crests might have caused me to neglect paying attention to some of the finer details concerning them,” she admits shamefully. “I’m very sorry, my Lady.”

Much to her relief the Archbishop doesn’t seem offended in the slightest, in fact she only seems more amused by Edelgard’s pitiful floundering. “I’m not surprised, it’s been quite some time since the Goddess divulged the reason why to mankind. By now humanity seems to come up with their own reasons at every possible opportunity. Mostly whatever suits them at the time,” she says with just the tiniest bit of distaste in her voice. “Either way, to put it shortly, Crests are a window to the soul… of sorts.”

The rather blunt and careless way the Archbishop shares what Edelgard feels is quite an astonishing and impactful revelation knocks her slightly out of balance. “Of sorts?” she repeats feebly, feeling mild dread creep up on her.

“Of sorts yes,” Rhea confirms almost nonchalantly, before lifting a finger to her chin in contemplation. “How do I put this simply,” she muses out loud and Edelgard starts feeling very worried she might not be able to cope with ‘simply’ at all.

“Hmm, to put it in human comprehensible terms,” the Archbishop begins, her words not helping Edelgard’s rapidly increasing dread at all, “all living things who are in the possession of a soul have a deep innate magic inside them,” Rhea explains with an air of ‘this is absolutely normal, small human’. “For some reason mankind, while born with a soul, lacked the ability to manifest the magic present inside their souls in the world around them.”

She takes in Edelgard’s expression, which must look as confused as she feels because the woman makes an attempt to clarify herself. “When the Goddess first found humanity, you had magic inside of you, yet you were unable to use it.”

“Ah,” Edelgard mutters, bemused but somewhat understanding what the Archbishop means. “That’s hard to imagine, a world without magic.”

Rhea nods in agreement. “The Goddess thought so too. It was unusual to say the least, and so the Goddess blessed mankind with Crests, which now serve as a way for mankind to channel the magic inside them and use it freely. So a window to the soul,” she repeats. “Or a gate… a door? Just a passage for the magic inside your souls to take shape in the physical world and let you manipulate it,” the Saint explains with what she seems to feel is perfectly normal knowledge for a human to learn in the span of five minutes.

For Edelgard it’s a lot to take in. It is vaguely agreed on in society that Crests are indeed somehow connected to the soul, yet to hear it explained in such detail by what is by all accounts a divine being who very likely knows things about the Goddess and Crest no human knows is… unnerving to say the least.

“Try not to think about it too much,” the Archbishop says when she catches Edelgard’s blank look and wide eyes. “It’s been over three thousand years ago, worrying about it now won’t do you any good.” She glances away and looks almost pained for a moment. “Trust me, I know,” she murmurs with a wistful expression adorning her face.

Edelgard is slightly torn between unable to cope with this new knowledge she apparently isn’t supposed to care all that much about and comfort the strangely upset Saint in front of her. “I uhm… I’ll try to progress it… later,” she says, trying not to fumble with her words. “What does all of this have to do with me though?” she can’t help but wonder.

It seems to jolt Lady Rhea out of whatever thoughts she was getting lost in, as she turns to look at Edelgard once more with more clarity in her eyes. “Ah yes. I was explaining something,” she says with a careless and distracted aura which only unnerves Edelgard more.

“The soul of a Saint, of me that is, consists of a somewhat different makeup than that of a human and those two really aren’t compatible.” She is silent for another moment as she seems to struggle to put what is common knowledge to her in ‘human comprehensible terms’. “To put it bluntly, a human body would not be able to bear the soul of a Saint and the soul would consume the body quite rapidly,” Rhea continues to explain. “Now that makes it impossible for you to have the soul of a Saint but it seems that at least a fraction of your soul is that of mine.”

Edelgard feels her head reel as she tries to put all these concerning pieces of information the Saint is casually throwing at her in some sort of meaningful order.

She has the Crest of a Saint. She would die if she had the soul of one, yet a small part of her soul belongs to the Saint sitting two chairs away from her.

She makes a strangled noise as the implications dawn on her. “I have a part of your soul?” she asks weakly.

The Archbishop takes in her words and by the way her brows furrow Edelgard can tell that her question doesn’t quite settle well with the woman. “Hmm, no not exactly. That would imply I’m missing a part of my soul and I can assure you my soul is whole as it is,” she says carefully, yet slightly miffed at the idea something might be wrong with her soul. “It’s more as if a small part of your soul happens to be made up of the exact same essence as mine is, hence why you have my Crest and why it doesn’t function properly, as your magic can’t flow properly. A mostly human soul can’t manifest its magic through a Crest of a Saint serving as the conductor.”

“Ah,” Edelgard croaks hoarsely. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to take any of this in.”

Rhea looks at her curiously. “Oh, you do seem quite pale,” she tells Edelgard and it’s clear it’s the first time the Saint notices Edelgard is having a teensy bit of trouble dealing with all the knowledge the woman is divulging so casually. “My apologies, sometimes I forget that this kind of knowledge can be… overwhelming for mankind. You are all so sensitive when it comes to the topic of your souls,” she says in what seems to be an attempt to comfort Edelgard.

Edelgard narrows her eyes. “Yes, well the Church is very adamant about that bit, keeping our souls pure and on the path of light and all,” she tells she holy woman with just a hint of sarcasm.

Now Rhea can’t help but smile sheepishly, almost guiltily so.

“Is that why the uh… the thing happened when you touched me,” Edelgard questions a little bluntly, unable to address the awkward topic more delicately.

The Archbishop seems momentarily startled yet masks it quickly. “Yes, that seems to have been the case. My soul and Crest are supposed to be completely unique and so when they were confronted with another Crest that matched it some sort of connection must have established as they tried to unify and become one.” She looks away for a moment and stares into the distance. “My apologies for that,” she says achingly soft. “I really should have been more careful.”

Again the Saint says things that don’t bode well for Edelgard. “Become one?” she asks as her voices quivers. “Was I in danger of dying?” What if her soul or Crest or just her life could have been completely consumed or absorbed by this vastly more powerful being? She shivers at the thought.

“I don’t know,” Rhea mutters uncertainly as she glances away evasively.

Ah, wonderful. This vastly more powerful being is just as clueless as she herself is. Yes, that’s reassuring.

“Oh but don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of this,” the Saint adds quickly when Edelgard feels close to bursting into tears. “But for now let’s ensure we do not touch again.”

Somehow Edelgard finds the strength to nod. Feebly so.

“That shouldn’t be a problem since I scarcely touch anyone,” Rhea says and Edelgard doesn’t know what to make of the hint of longing, perhaps even loneliness, the Saint seems to forget to hide. Shouldn’t this woman have everything she wants? Not to mention she’s perpetually surrounded by people who adore her.

Oh, but like a statue. Something perfect to be admired from afar. Coldly and impersonally.

Rhea tenses slightly and shakes whatever spell she was under. “Either way, you said you had another Crest?” she deftly changes the topic.

Edelgard nods. “I assume you want to see that one as well?”

“If you would please, it could help me get more insight as to what caused you to have my Crest,” the Saint responds. “I’ll refrain from touching it,” she adds with a weak smile.

Slightly reassured that Lady Rhea will at least not attempt to accidently consume her soul Edelgard feels confident enough to summon her other Crest, raising her hand just above the table as she does so.

She momentarily focuses on the familiar glow of her red Crest appearing above her hand but then the shaky gasp from Rhea jolts her attention away from it as her eyes find Rhea’s face.

And _oh_ , the woman looks absolutely mortified.

If Edelgard thought that the Saint seeing her own Crest was an intense reaction on her then she was very wrong as the current frightened look on her face is nothing compared to her expression the day before.

“N-no,” Rhea croaks. “That can’t be.”

Now Edelgard too feels very uncomfortable and increasingly more afraid. Panic gnaws at her. Is this a bad Crest? One belonging to something evil? A worrying thought enters her mind. What if it’s Lucifer’s Crest? Sure, the Goddess banished him and his presence on Fodlan centuries ago but oh Heavens what if she has the Crest of the devil? Surely this will mean a one way trip to being executed. Or she’ll be subjected to one of those exorcisms people speak about in hushed tones. Or perhaps the Saint knows how to banish her soul to the depths of hell where Edelgard will suffer for all eternity.

Nearly paralyzed with fear she keeps her eyes trained on the Archbishop’s face. Slowly but surely the shock and terror the woman was feeling turns into something else. Strangely it turns into that longing again, yet this time it comes with a different kind of aching loneliness that Rhea doesn’t seem to realize is written all over her face.

In fact, she seems to forget what the rest of her body is doing as well as one of her hands carefully reaches out towards the Crest Edelgard is summoning, her eyes mesmerized as they are trained on the sigil glowing in soft reds.

It’s only when out of fear of the consequences Edelgard instinctively retreats her hand that Rhea realizes what she was doing and quickly pulls her own hand back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers breathlessly. “It’s just that… that that’s my Mother’s Crest,” she murmurs quietly, the disbelief evident in her quivering voice as her eyes won’t leave the Crest hovering above Edelgard’s hand.

Her mother? Do Saints have mother- oh _no._

“Y-you mean your Mother the _Goddess?”_ Edelgard asks faintly, already desperately wishing that she’s very wrong about this.

Sadly for Edelgard, Rhea nods slowly and by the way she seems entranced by Edelgard’s glowing red Crest Edelgard can tell she’s not lying.

It becomes all a little too much for her and with a pitiful whimper a tremor runs through her body as she stops summoning the Crest and promptly buries her head in her arms. “Please tell me there is a good explanation for this,” she says, her voice muffled into the fabric of her clothes. “I swear I didn’t know. Please, so much has already been wrong with me since I was born, I just cannot take this as well. I don’t even know what this is supposed to mean.” She’s now truly close to crying. Her Crests being meaningless had always been a heavy burden on her, but her Crests belonging to the Goddess and one of her Children respectively –Crests which she has no right to bear- might just be a burden she cannot shoulder. If people find out they will never leave her be, she’ll be even more shunned, experimented on or condemned a sinner, someone who unrightfully stole the powers of the Goddess or whatever it is people will come up with. 

“There is nothing wrong with you,” comes the slightly too loud voice filled with just as much emotion as Edelgard is feeling. It causes her to move her head up and tentatively glance at the other woman.

She looks angry yet the glistering of tears in her eyes make it evident she’s not angry at Edelgard. “I do not know what this means either,” she continues, her voice hoarse and her breath slightly ragged. “But someone did this to you and I _will_ find out who,” she says, the determination in her voice reflected in her teary eyes. She seems somewhere in between furious and deeply hurt, with wide eyes and her fists clenched.

Despite feeling far from alright herself Edelgard cannot help but feel for the Archbishop, the poor woman is trembling at this point and clearly teetering on some kind of emotional limit. She supposes it must be a whole other kind of disturbing for a Saint to discover the Crest of the Goddess, who is also your mother, on a human being.

“I need you to tell me everything,” the Archbishop suddenly says with breathless urgency, yet her voice is so unsteady and there is such a wild look in her eyes Edelgard wonders if the woman is up for it.

Once again it occurs to her that this being who is supposed to be holy, divine and perfect seems startlingly human when it comes down to it.

“I’m not opposed to telling you but are you sure you can handle hearing even more about this right now?” she tries saying with as much delicacy as she can muster. “You seem very… affected by all of this,” she adds much softer.

It seems to occur to Lady Rhea she is indeed very much ‘affected’ as she promptly moves to wipe the tears from her eyes before rigidly moving her hands to her sides. “I do really need to hear your story,” she insists firmly. “But perhaps it would be better if we continue this tomorrow,” she speaks with a quiver in her voice she cannot hide.

Not a moment later she rises from her seat and briskly moves towards the door. “Visit me in my office tomorrow,” she asks without it being much of a question. “At thirty minutes past four, if you will.” She stills for a moment before turning her head to face Edelgard. “For tea,” she tells her with so much emotion in her voice that it almost makes Edelgard want to laugh at the stark contrast with someone inviting her for tea.

“Alright,” she mutters bemused, then he wonders if the Archbishop even heard her response as the woman was already halfway through the door when Edelgard finally managed to speak up.

And with that she’s alone, stuck somewhere deep inside the maze that is this blasted monastery with no idea where she even is… or where the Archbishop’s office is.

Wonderful.

* * *

The next day… really sucks for the most part.

Not only did she sleep horribly, with the constant tug of her mind reminding her that the Archbishop is very real and very close and very much not close enough throughout the entire night, combined with her anxiety of having to meet said Archbishop the following day keeping her up as well.

After a tense breakfast with Mercedes, who caught on to Edelgard’s foul and stressed-out mood rather quickly and left her to her own devices shortly afterwards, she finds herself left with nothing to do.

Which in turn only serves to make her more restless.

To ease her mind she ends up wandering the grounds of Garreg Mach. Might as well get acquainted with the layout if this is to be her home from now on.

She gets lost several times, which she considers a fairly impressive feat as she wasn’t really going anywhere to begin with. But when she realizes she is passing through the same hallway a third time now without meaning to she has no other option than to conclude she’s really lost.

Her mood takes an even bigger nosedive at her frustration to figure all these building with their blasted hallways, chambers and corridors out, yet she still won’t give up her exploration, if only because walking helps her cope with some of the nerves which are constantly bubbling in her stomach.

At some point she realizes she wandered herself into what seems to be… wyvern stables.

Unable to suppress an eye-roll her curiosity leads her to investigate further. Of course this obscenely rich and influential monastery would house a whole herd of wyverns. The beasts are one of the most expensive animals to keep. Raising one is costly enough on its own as it takes a long time for one to reach maturity and learn to trust humans enough to let them fly on their backs.

But they also need a lot of space, and enrichment and people to take care of them and to keep them company. If not they get very stressed.

And no one wants a stressed wyvern. Not only do they cause havoc and are practically useless as they won’t let any human ride them, they also tend to… die.

But Garreg Mach seems to be in the possession of at least fifteen of the creatures Edelgard gauges as she takes in the spacious enclosures as she looks at them from a respectable distance.

Domesticated or not, Wyverns tend not to appreciate an unfamiliar human approaching them without warning.

“Planning your escape?” she hears coming from one of the enclosures closest to her.

A moment later a man appears, tall and with a darker skin tone than what’s common in Adrestia, though that doesn’t say much of his origin as these days people migrate all over Fodlan without much issue. He sports a beard which makes him look sort of rugged in a way people might consider handsome.

It also makes it very hard to gauge his age. He’s clearly older than Edelgard but people tend to visibly age very little between roughly the age of thirty and seventy, and beards serve a common way for men to make themselves look significantly older, and in their silent hopes, more mature than they really are.

“Escaping sounds very tempting,” she responds honestly with a small grin. “Although I think I’ll find a different method if I decide to do so. I’d rather not get mauled to death by a mistrusting wyvern while I do so. I couldn’t bear the shame explaining that to my dearly departed ancestors.”

The man returns her grin. “Very wise, they tend to have a bit of a temperament, especially when it comes to strangers.” His eyes turn slightly mischievous. “Although, if you still happen to find yourself in the dire need to do so I’d take little old Bessie over there,” he says as he points to a large white wyvern who is curled up comfortably several enclosures into the back. “She’s very patient and gentle,” he explains. “And she comes with the added benefit of finding her way home to me once you have reached your destination and let her go free.”

Edelgard stifles a laugh. “Should you really be telling me this?” she quips.

“Oh no, definitely not,” the older man grins. “But you looked terribly miserable as you made your way here. Quite lost too, if I may add. I just thought I’d grace you with a hint of brightness in your dreary mood.”

“Very much appreciated.”

With that the strange man seems to have decided Edelgard is worth talking with some more as he approaches her and extends his hand. “I’m Claude,” he introduces himself with a twinge of pride. “The wyvern caretaker of Garreg Mach,” he adds, now with tangible pride.

“Impressive,” Edelgard nods and shakes his hand. “They aren’t easy creatures to keep happy, or so I’ve heard.”

“Eh, once you get the hang of it they’re no more difficult than all these cats and dogs around here," he says dismissively but still pleased. "Although I have to pay mind the wyverns don’t accidently eat those…” he trails off with a sheepish smile. “Honestly, sometimes I feel more like a glorified janitor,” he shrugs.

“Claude the wyvern janitor, an impressive title,” Edelgard smiles.

Claude does a little bow. “That would be me,” he says almost solemnly. “And you would be?” he questions.

“Oh, my apologies. Edelgard von Hresvelg,” she responds automatically.

Claude promptly does an overly dramatic gasp. “Am I in the company of royalty?” he questions with almost comically wide eyes.

It confuses Edelgard for just a second before she realizes she somehow forgot she shares her last name –alongside some of his blood- with the Emperor of Adrestia. “Oh, no not at all. More like a far off-shoot branch. I used to go by my mother’s last name until some years ago when some… stuff happened,” she mumbles, suddenly tense and hoping Claude won’t press the issue.

The strange wyvern janitor seems to be able to read other people fairly well and only responds with an understanding smile. “Always with the stuff happening, isn’t it,” he muses with a sympathetic smile.

Edelgard nods gratefully.

“Do you want to meet the wyverns? They’re dears, really.”

“Can I?” Edelgard responds eagerly, suddenly realizing how badly she wants to. She has seen the odd one during her life, mostly when she happened to be around the palace or at some other fancy location and some important noble decided that whatever business he had was to too urgent to make the journey by carriage, but she never met one up close.

“Of course. In fact I’d recommend it as you seemed to be doing nothing at all until just now. Meeting wyverns is a wonderful past-time,” Claude insists, a slightly serious undertone among his otherwise pleased reaction.

He shows her around the stables and under the watchful eye of Claude Edelgard gets to approach the white wyvern Claude called Bessie earlier. “It’s short for Elizabeth,” he explains and then sneers. “But she doesn’t like that name, too fancy.”

The large beast seems to use Claude as a way to gauge as how to treat this unfamiliar human, and when Claude does some strange gestures and makes calming sounds the animal apparently decides that if Claude trusts the stranger then so should she.

It lowers its gigantic head in front of Edelgard, who is suddenly very scared, taking her turn to look at Claude as to what she is supposed to do with the imposing creature before her.

“She wants you to pet her forehead, it’s a way for them to greet humans,” he explains. “Wyverns greet one another by rubbing their heads against each other and they are intelligent enough to understand they really shouldn’t rub their heads against those of humans, so they have settled for our hands instead.”

Edelgard nods and swallows as she tries to will away her nerves. The creature currently wanting to be petted could bite off her whole hand if it so pleases, along with her head if it feels like it.

Still she summons her courage and gently brushes her fingers over the cranium of the beast. Bessie responds by closing her eyes and pressing her head more firmly against Edelgard’s hand, prompting her to press the flat of her hand against the animals head and finally petting it properly.

It makes a sound oddly similar to purring, causing Claude to chuckle. “You’re doing a good job, it seems.”

Edelgard cannot suppress her happy smile.

A little while later she and Claude have taken seat atop some crates close to where Bessie is now taking a nap and are idly chatting about things that start out wyvern related and slowly wind into things only vaguely related to wyverns, such as all the places Claude has seen by traveling on them, which nobles handle wyverns well and which really don’t and some of the remote places across Fodlan where wild populations of the animals dwell, along with what other interesting secrets those places harbor.

Slowly but surely Edelgard gets the nagging feeling Claude has not been entirely honest about being nothing but a wyvern janitor, as he seems to have seen too much of the world and knows too much about the intricate social systems the nobility pride themselves in to only know how to take care of wyverns. Not to mention he occasionally uses words or phrases that are either only used among the inner circles of nobility or hail from remote places all over the world. His casual way of speaking is a jumbled mess consisting of all sorts of influences.

Eventually her curiosity gets the better of her and she narrows her eyes at him. “You’re not really just the wyvern caretaker here?” she asks him, blunt and straight to the point.

Claude seems momentarily taken aback before an amused smile ghosts over his lips. “Oh my, whatever have I done to cause you to reach such an outlandish conclusion,” he wonders idly.

“Everything… more or less,” Edelgard mutters stubbornly. “You know a lot. Too much really. And you use words that come from all over Fodlan and from all layers of society,” she explains to him, vaguely aware she might be dangerously close to being rude.

Claude shrugs. “Whoops, I guess I blew my cover already,” he grins.

“What cover? Tell me,” Edelgard impatiently demands. “Uhm… please,” she manages to add.

A secretive smile forms on Claude’s lips and he presses a finger against them to add just a touch of dramatic mystery. “Don’t tell anyone okay?”

Edelgard nods almost fiercely.

“I’m here incognito,” Claude tells her solemnly. “I’m in hiding.”

Edelgard is on the edge of her seat as her curiosity has her close to bursting. “In hiding from what?”

“Well,” Claude starts and then hesitates to choose his words carefully. “It started when I was quite young but I’m close to sixty now and during those long years I worked my way up in… lesser legal circles.” He pauses and stares into the distance with such a serious expression that it makes Edelgard uncomfortable before he abruptly turns back to face her. “I’m actually a rather notorious crime lord,” he tells her in a hushed voice. “Or well, I used to be.” He looks at Edelgard with a deeply wrought expression. “They turned on me, my own clan. Can you believe it?” he says, his voice full of anguish. “So now I’m here, under the protection of Her Holiness Lady Rhea, in return for cooperating with her,” he finishes with a sorrowful expression.

Edelgard is silent for a good few seconds, shocked to learn she is apparently in the presence of a dangerous criminal, but when she glances at Claude’s face and watches him visibly struggle to keep from grinning while failing to banish the twinkle of amusement from his eyes she realizes what’s going on.

“You’re messing with me,” she bristles, feeling betrayed.

Unable to hold back any longer Claude breaks into laughter. “More or less, yes.”

“Rude,” she tells him sternly.

Claude only laughs more. “That’s part of my charm, really,” he shrugs. “Don’t take it too personally, you’re hardly the first person I told that story,” he says a little more gently, then stifles a laugh again. “You should have seen your face though. Priceless,” he says as she shakes his head amusedly.

“Ass,” Edelgard bites.

“Wow, language!” Claude explains in mock hurt.

All he gets is an eye roll in return.

“Fine, fine. My apologies.”

Edelgard glowers at him. “I still don’t believe you’re ‘just’ the wyvern caretaker here.”

“Hmm that sounds like a _you_ problem then,” Claude teases her.

An annoyed sound escapes Edelgard’s mouth. “Were you at least honest about your name and age?”

The almost obscenely cheeky grin on Claude’s lips tell her all she needs to know.

“I’m sorry, who I am is for me to know and for you to get very frustrated about for not knowing,” Claude continues without a hint of pity for Edelgard’s annoyance at not getting her hands on the truth.

“Fine,” she mutters. “So you just wanted to mock me?” she asks with just the tiniest bit of hurt in her voice. She really did enjoy talking to him. It was easy and involved much less church. It hurts to learn he was merely messing with her.

Finally Claude does turn serious. “No, I didn’t want to mock you. I quite like you, actually,” he says easily and only because he seems to consider it so normal to say does Edelgard not feel embarrassed and truthfully quite happy to be told she is liked. “My past is just a little… muddy,” Claude says tentatively and proceeds to give her a knowing look. “You know, always with ‘the stuff’.”

Oh. Finally it does click inside Edelgard’s mind that earlier he sensed she didn’t want to talk about her past and yet she felt offended when he didn’t want to talk about his. She completely neglected to consider his past might be sensitive, if not altogether painful, as well. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t, and no need to apologize,” Claude smiles. “How about we just start things off in the present?”

Edelgard nods. “I’d like that.”

Claude seems pleased with her agreement yet quickly turns to look mischievous once more. “Good, also just keep calling me Claude, everyone around here does so. And I do hope you are looking forward to more dramatic tales about my past, as I sure am.”

Edelgard chuckles. “Only if I can come up with my own fake pasts,” she jokes.

The mysterious wyvern caretaker gasps dramatically. “ _Fake?”_ he bristles. “How dare you think I’d _lie_ to you?” he says, pretending to look deeply offended.

“Oh shut it, crime lord.”

Immediately Claude opens his mouth to speak but falls silent when the both of them are momentarily distracted by the sound of the the clocks chime in the distance.

Edelgard counts the beats.

Four.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” she blurts out unceremoniously.

“Language, princess!” Claude exclaims, visibly aghast once again.

Edelgard ignores his fake shock in favor of being offended at his choice of nicknames. “ _Princess?”_ she balks, not liking the name at all. Shaking her head dismissively she shrugs it off. “Never mind, I have to be at the Archbishop’s office in half an hour and I have no idea where it is,” she complains with quickly rising annoyance as her nerves begin to spike again.

“Oh no, that sounds very serious.”

“It’s uhm... just for tea,” Edelgard tries to cover the true reason with lamely.

Claude now turns to look truly disturbed. “So it’s really dire, huh,” he hums while he looks at Edelgard with unmasked pity.

“What?” she asks worriedly, growing concerned by his dramatic response to _tea._

“Well, I won’t pry as to what the underlying reason is for your formal invitation to tea but let’s just say I know Lady Rhea well enough to know she isn’t the sort of person to invite people to tea for just a little friendly chat.”

Edelgard makes a foul expression. “Tell me about it,” she groans.

Her companion looks visibly pleased. “Ah, I see you got well acquainted with our local Holiness already.”

If only he knew, Edelgard thinks to herself wryly.

Claude seems to take pity on her plight. “Come, I’ll walk you into the right direction,” he says as he gestures for her to follow him, which she does so gratefully.

Before long they’re somewhere deep inside Garreg Mach again and the endless corridors dazzle Edelgard, they all look identical yet also completely different.

“I swear the building changes shape each time I walk through it,” she growls. “It’s like the hallways are always different.”

Claude turns to look at her with an expression of concern which doesn’t bode well as he leans in slightly closer. “That’s because they do,” he half whispers.

Inadvertently Edelgard shivers at the thought. “You’re messing with me again,” she says accusingly but also slightly unnerved.

She dislikes the knowing smile Claude wears. “I wish,” he mutters wistfully. When he sees Edelgard tense up he speaks up again. “Relax, I’m joking. Although sometimes it does feel like the building has a mind of its own, or perhaps it simply shapes itself after Lady Rhea’s whims.”

“That’s not very comforting either.”

Claude shrugs, yet seems oddly pleased. “Welcome to Garreg Mach, I’d say.”

After Claude is treated to another glare the both of them walk in silence for a little while, until the strange man abruptly stops. “This is as far as I’ll go,” he explains when Edelgard glances at him curiously. “I rather not be seen snooping around Lady Rhea’s personal quarters, she doesn’t really appericiate it when I do,” he says with a proud smile.

“Oh, uh alright then.”

“It’s not far, just follow this hallway to the end, turn left and keep walking until you spot a way too decorated wooden door to your right,” Claude explains to her. “Oh, and do tell Lady Rhea I said hii, trust me, she’ll like it.”

Edelgard frowns at him. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t believe Lady Rhea likes anything.”

“While it is very wise not to trust me, you are very wrong about her Holiness not liking anything,” Claude chides her. “She likes many things very deeply, she’s just incredibly bad at expressing it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.” The thought of the Headmistress having interests seems foreign to Edelgard, yet the idea that a person, divine Saint or not, doesn’t like anything at all also doesn’t make sense to her, so perhaps Claude is speaking the truth this time.

“Don’t forget to tell her I said hii!” she hears coming from some distance behind her and when she turns to look Claude has already begun to retreat back to where they came from, and with a smile and a wave he disappears around a corner.

And with that she’s alone again.

Alone, along with the tense coil in her stomach that makes itself known again after having been mercifully absent while she was in Claude’s company. The ever present tug at her mind letting her known the Archbishop is currently very close also enters her conscious again and for a moment she considers leaving.

But no, that would be cowardly.

Swallowing down her fears and summoning her courage she follows Claude’s directions and soon finds herself in front what can indeed only be the door belonging to the Archbishop.

Seriously, literally every religious symbol known to Edelgard, along with many others unknown to her, are engraved in the wooden door. From the imagery depicting the first descend of the Goddess on Fodlan to ornate crosses and little people draped in holy attires.

Well, apparently Edelgard has found one thing the Archbishop likes then, and unsurprisingly it’s religion.

Taking another deep breath she finally manages to get herself to knock.

And waits.

And waits.

And finally hears the sound of muffled footsteps coming from beyond the door, which opens a moment later and reveals a frowning Archbishop.

“You’re early,” she says curtly, yet gestures for Edelgard to enter anyway, which she does and finds herself in what feels like an absurdly spacious hallway into a house.

Edelgard already regrets being here. “Am I?” she stammers uncertainly. “I’m sorry, I was afraid I’d get lost on the way here and ended up getting a little help. I guess it made me arrive her sooner than expected,” she explains.

“Did you now,” is all the Saint says, her lips a thin line as she takes in Edelgard, who nods weakly. “From Claude,” she clarifies. "He wanted me to tell you he said hii, by the way.”

With a loud clang Lady Rhea roughly slams the door shut behind Edelgard, causing her to gasp in surprise.

“Did he now?” she says, now very much displeased. “Of course he did,” she mutters with annoyance under her breath.

“Uh, yes,” Edelgard says quietly. “Is that a bad thing?”

Inwardly she curses. Of course she should have known better than to trust Claude and relay his seemingly innocent greeting to the Archbishop.

“It’s not a bad thing,” the Saint tells her with pursed lips. “But also not a good thing.”

She turns to look at Edelgard and speaks in a way that almost sounds like a teacher explaining something to a student. “When Claude shows interest in anything related to you it’s never a good thing, as the man will simply Not. Stop. Prying. Not until he gets to the bottom of whatever it is that caught his interest, which is something I would rather prevent in this case, as you might understand.” She glances away and with a twinge of annoyance she mutters quietly, “if he doesn’t already know by now.”

“I’m very sorry, I didn’t know,” Edelgard tells Rhea earnestly, feeling very guilty.

It seems to stir something in the other woman, whose look immediately softens. “Don’t misunderstand, he’s not a bad man. Not at all. He just likes to know things. All things. Goddess knows how many secrets he holds, yet he never seems to do anything with them.”

“He did seem oddly knowledgeable, yes,” Edelgard muses.

Lady Rhea turns to look uncharacteristically amused. “Tell me, what nonsensical stories did he tell you?”

“I think it’s best if I keep his secrets,” Edelgard can’t help but joke as she smiles apologetically at the Saint.

“Very wise, he’ll enjoy that,” the Archbishop responds, sounding almost impressed. “I meant what I said, he’s not a bad man. Don’t let my wariness deter you from enjoying his company, I just don’t deal very well with people prying into my personal matters… and them being infuriatingly good at it no less. But I do not dislike him.”

That must have been the nicest thing Edelgard has heard the other woman say about someone else and if Claude’s sentiment about her being horrid about expressing what she likes it might just mean she’s actually very fond of him.

“That’s a relief, I quite liked talking to him.”

“An odd choice in company, but definitely not a bad one,” Rhea says, somehow making it sound like she’s insulting Edelgard yet complimenting Claude. “His skills in mysteriously getting his hands on all sorts of knowledge is quite handy… if his focus doesn’t fall on you that is.”

“Duly noted,” Edelgard responds with a serious nod.

A silence falls between the two of them, which Edelgard really doesn’t enjoy. “You have an odd office,” she says in an attempt to make it known to the other woman she’s not quite sure what she’s doing in a hallway.

It works as Lady Rhea seems to realize they are indeed still in the hallway. “My apologies,” she mutters stiffly. “My office is part of my personal quarters, my own home inside the monastery if you will, this is simply the entrance. Please, come along,” she says as she moves to the other side of the short hall and opens the door to a much brighter room behind it.

When Edelgard enters it as well, a polite few steps behind Rhea, she finds it’s indeed an office.

An incredibly large and beautifully furnished office, that is, with two closed doors on each side leading towards what are probably the rest of Rhea’s personal quarters. Likely the more ‘personal’ parts of her personal quarters.

But the office itself is, while neatly ordered, also chaotically full of all sorts of things. With a sense of awe she takes in the lavish furniture, the shelves full of books and odd trinkets, the paintings on the wall and finally…

Several glass enclosures?

Without thinking she takes a few steps into the direction of her newfound interest.

A soft gasp escapes her lips once she realizes what is contained within the enclosures lining half of one of the walls of the Saint’s office.

“Ah yes,” she hears coming from behind her. “Please don’t be startled, they are a species of insects called-”

“ _Praying mantids,”_ Edelgard finishes for her with a childlike excitement she didn’t knew she still had in her. Living ones no less, a single one of a different species contained in each glass cage, the insides carefully decorated with branches and twigs.

“You know what they are?” the Archbishop asks curiously as she moves to stand next to Edelgard.

She nods enthusiastically. “They’re my favorite!”

Only when she feels the gaze of the other woman drill holes into the side of her head does Edelgard find the strength to tear her eyes away from the little creatures and look at the other woman.

And she looks surprised but… oddly happy. Almost innocently excited, although the expression is nuanced behind her regal demeanor, yet it’s enough for Edelgard to conclude she was very wrong about the Saint not liking anything.

“They’re my favorite too,” the woman murmurs softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so these mantis facts I promised.   
> Mantids have exactly three reactions to anything that moves in their vicinity, which are: "Food, I'm killing it", "Threat, I hate it and if it doesn't leave I'm killing it" and "Not my division, I'm ignoring it." 
> 
> Both females and males have a pitifully underdeveloped fourth reaction when it comes to mating. Which basically consists of the male (who is nearly always significantly smaller than the female) hopping on top of the female, staying there for sometimes up to a few hours before remembering what the fuck it's supposed to do and then Getting It On. Sadly the female often forgets halfway through that she is in the act of mating only to turn her head around and go "Oh neat! there is free food on my back." which is where the story of females eating the males during sex comes from, which is more so because both parties are idiots who have no idea what they're doing rather than the edgy femme fatale twist people like to give them, along with spiders and other insects that do it.
> 
> Seriously, look at this lil' dude trying very hard to get his lady to meet him halfway (as he's too small do do it himself, ahahahaha)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdmG9aupuCY
> 
> (And yes those are a fully adult male and female, the males just stay that small)
> 
> I swear this is all very important knowledge for the rest of my fic.


	7. Meanings lost to time

“How is it you even know what they are?” Lady Rhea asks her as Edelgard struggles not to press her nose, along with her hands, against the various glass enclosures in excitement. “I mean, you are from Adrestia aren’t you? They aren’t native there.”

“My mom,” Edelgard responds without looking away. “She used to collect pinned specimens of exotic insects from all over Fodlan.”

“Used to?” Rhea wonders out loud.

Finally Edelgard does tear away her eyes from the insects, who thus far haven’t moved at all. “Uh... yes,” she mumbles slightly uncomfortable. “She disappeared from my life nine years ago… without a trace.” She stills for a moment before softly adding. “I’m sorry, I don’t like to talk about it.”

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have asked,” Rhea tells her with an apologetic smile. “Have you ever seen a life one?” she changes the topic subtly as she gestures to the creatures.

Edelgard shakes her head. “No, never.” She smiles sheepishly. “I always assumed they’d be more… lively. The things I read about them in the books about insects I had always described them as intelligent predators and the like.”

A subtle smile lingers on the Archbishop’s lips. “They can be,” she says with an air of secrecy. “But only if they need to.”

She points at a large green one. “That one is the most active of them all… which is to say she moves from her spot roughly every two days or so. Sometimes she doesn’t even really move from the spot, just sways back and forth for a while.”

“Oh,” Edelgard says. “That’s… a little less interesting than I thought they’d be.”

“It’s precisely what I like so much about them, actually.”

Edelgard glances at the Saint curiously. “How so?”

Lady Rhea is silent for a moment before responding. “They only move when they need something. Food, water, warmth, or when they feel threatened. …I like that, that they never do anything unless it’s to help them survive, that they don’t… _need_ anything.”

She stares at the little creatures for a moment, almost as unmoving as the critters themselves. “They never get bored, restless, impatient or lonely. They just… are, and they never change.”

Abruptly she turns to Edelgard and her eyes feel like they’re piercing through her. “I don’t like it when things change, and everything always changes.” There is pain in her voice, but not any sort of pain Edelgard thinks she has ever felt, or will feel, as it comes across as the kind of pain only a being who has been alive as long as Lady Rhea has, yet still feels emotions like any human, could understand.

Edelgard swallows hard as she struggles to keep meeting the other woman’s eyes. She cannot tell exactly what Rhea means but she can feel the weight behind her words.

“I’m glad then, that they agree with you on that,” she smiles, hoping she comes across as less out of her depth than she feels.

Rhea seems to appreciate the answer and returns her smile “Of course it helps all of these are enchanted,” she reveals nonchalantly. “These all females, who already live much longer than males, but even females don’t live longer than a month or nine… if they’re lucky. So I enchanted them to live… indefinitely, more or less.”

“More or less?”

“Well I could still squish them if I felt so inclined,” Rhea says, sounding deeply serious.

Her comment slightly unnerves Edelgard, who stares at her with widened unblinking eyes until the ghost of a grin tugs on her lips. “I wouldn’t,” she reassures Edelgard with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh… uh, that’s nice for them then.”

Comforted by the knowledge the Archbishop doesn’t have a secret hobby for murdering insects she focuses on the mantids again. “Is it true the females really kill and eat the males when they mate?” she can’t help but ask.

To her surprise Rhea laughs. It’s soft and melodious and so… gentle it’s almost uncomfortable as it’s so in contrast with the rest of her. “That’s the first thing everyone always asks,” she tells Edelgard, clearly amused by her apparently very common question. “But yes they do,” she adds dismissively.

“Oh.”

“It’s not as gruesome as you think, they don’t always do it and when they do it’s because they don’t really… realize they’re mating. Sometimes a female all of a sudden just discovers there is free food on their back, and that’s a chance they don’t let pass by. The males are much smaller too, so they’re too helpless to do anything about it.”

Edelgard frowns. “That’s still gruesome,” she says with distaste in her voice. “But maybe a little more sad than gruesome,” she laughs quietly.

“Hmm, sad indeed. But also very beneficial,” Rhea hums. “Research has showed that females who eat the male when they mate lay much more eggs and the babies that hatch are much more stronger as well.” Amusement flickers across her face. “It turns out that the males are a very valuable source of protein.”

Edelgard stares at her blankly for a moment once again, trying to decipher if the woman is joking or not before settling on that the woman isn’t joking but certainly finds that tidbit of information comical.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to be a providing father to your children,” she comments dryly.

The Saint manages to surprise once again by truly breaking into laugher now, pressing the top of her hand against her mouth to muffle the sound. “That’s a nice way to put it,” she chuckles. “But them being so… trigger happy when it comes to food is why they’re all in separate cages. Even if I’d put two of the same species together they can’t help but see each other as nothing but a potential source of food… so all things considered it’s a good thing they don’t get lonely, if you keep eating all your companions.”

Now Edelgard can’t help but laugh. Poor things.

With the mood between them much more amicable and less tense than last time Edelgard feels herself relax somewhat. “Which one is your favorite?”

Rhea purses her lips. “Well, I’m not supposed to pick favorites,” she tells Edelgard with a serious expression. “Doing so would make me a terrible headmistress, wouldn’t you agree?” she adds in a hushed tone, making Edelgard once again marvel at the odd sense of humor Rhea has, although she can see the merit in it as well.

“If I had to, though,” Rhea continues, “It would be that one.” She gestures at a white mantis with purple markings on the edge of certain parts of its body. “It’s an orchid mantis… because it looks like one and uses that as camouflage while it waits for its prey. It’s a species that doesn’t move much but I like the elegance of its shape,” she explains.

“It’s pretty, yeah,” Edelgard agrees.

“Hmm, oh and that one,” Rhea says as she points to an enclosure on the other side of Edelgard, closing the distance between them as she steps closer.

Before Rhea can finishes her sentence Edelgard’s nerves suddenly come alive, singeing and fizzling as the sudden proximity between her and Rhea snaps her mind back to the odd connection between them, which now feels almost unbearably strong.

With a startled yelp she hastily steps backwards, cowering away from Rhea and shielding herself with her arms on instinct to try and cope with the sudden flood of feelings that threaten to drown her.

Rhea seems equally startled, freezing in her tracks as she carefully retracts her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she murmurs, visibly conflicted.

“You didn’t upset me,” Edelgard tells her quickly, yet she sounds as tense as she feels. “I’m sorry, it’s the stupid Crest thing,” she blurts out in frustration.

Rhea looks at her with her brows furrowed and a puzzled expression, making Edelgard decide to just come clean with what she’s been struggling.

“When you’re close, _too_ close… or far as well, I… I feel things, many things. Like a sort of tug in my mind,” Edelgard frantically tries to explain. “It doesn’t hurt but it’s just there _all_ the time, urging me on and it’s maddening.” She struggles to express the sensation. “When you’re close it feels like… like...”

“Home,” Rhea softly finishes for her.

“Yes, _home,_ ” Edelgard repeats, relieved she found a word that at least feels somewhat accurate. “Oh.” She looks at Rhea with newfound curiosity. “You can feel it too.”

The Saint hums wistfully. “You really thought it was a one way connection?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea what to think of any of this, I have no idea what it even means,” Edelgard confesses, frustration lacing her words. “It’s just in my head, all the time,” she groans. “I can barely think, it’s like I’m never alone.”

Rhea glances at her with an empathic look. “My apologies, I wasn’t aware it was afflicting you this much,” she admits softly with a hint of guilt.

“It’s been… distracting,” Edelgard says, trying to make her struggles sound less severe than they really have been. “Is it different for you?” she can’t help but wonder.

Rhea shoots her an odd look before averting her gaze. “I can’t be sure but no, I don’t think so.”

“Oh… that’s uh… I’m sorry,” Edelgard mumbles slightly taken aback. She hadn’t at all expected this elusive woman to be under the effect of this weird connection as well, let alone suffer from it in the same way she was.

“Don’t be.” Abruptly the Saint turns around. “Come, I might have something that might work as a… temporary counter measurement until we get this sorted out.” With that she briskly makes her way to the other side of her office and opens a drawer of a large closet.

Edelgard is beside her a moment later, standing as close as comfort will allow her. With curiosity she peers into the drawer and is rather amused to discover it’s incredibly disorganized, filled to the brim with all sort of strange objects and trinkets, all interesting on their own yet with none of them standing out.

“I consulted my family about you,” Rhea says without looking up as she rummages through the contents of the drawer.

Her family? Edelgard finds herself wondering. Rhea has a fa- oh. _Oh._

“You mean the other Saints?” Edelgard blurts out startled, her voice a tad too high out of sheer fear. Saints are… the most holy beings on Fodlan, revered throughout the lands, respected and beloved wherever they go, the heroes of many historical events. Any human considers themselves lucky to meet even one in their lifetime. A handshake or a smile from them is something many people like to boast about throughout the rest of their lives.

…And Edelgard didn’t just accidently bump into one and messed up both their lives… no, to make matters worse, now _all_ five of the Saints know of her existence and the oddity of her Crests. …And what she did to their sibling.

Oh, _goodness._

“Mhm,” Rhea mumbles absentmindedly, still not looking up as she continues to search for whatever it is she’s looking for. “Oh, and also my Mother, though her responses are often delayed depending on what’s currently occupying her elsewhere.”

Her Mother… the _Goddess._

Oh, _fuck._

As far as Edelgard’s knowledge regarding the Goddess goes, she doesn’t recall a single instance the Goddess spoke to a human directly, or even mentioned one for that matter. The Goddess guides all of mankind as a whole yes, but never did she acknowledge an individual. It always felt more as if the Goddess saw all of humanity as one being, slowly marching forward in time, with her Children to guide their direction.

And now one of these Children consulted her, send her a magic letter or whatever, about _Edelgard,_ who has the Crest of both one of her Children _and_ the Goddess herself. Which, according to Rhea is _not_ something that belongs to her.

She feels herself pale. Surely she’s going to be turned into dust now for possessing fragments of two different divine souls which she has no right to have, if the Goddess will not personally come down to erase her soul from existence with a hefty divine smite.

The Saint who just casually announced her impending doom doesn’t seem to notice Edelgard’s internal meltdown. “Either way, my siblings are understandably concerned… although I omitted some of the more personal details.” At that she flashes Edelgard a weak smile, yet doesn’t catch the fear that is surely marring her expression. “For my own peace of mind, and yours as well I suppose.”

“T-thank you,” Edelgard feebly manages to get out, which she considers a small miracle.

“Mhm,” the other woman hums and Edelgard wonders if she even really heard what was said. “They’re going to look into it, and although they’ll have to wait until our Mother responds but in due time they’ll probably want to meet you as well.”

“Meet me?” Edelgard squeaks out, her voice breaking. An uncomfortable thought creeps up on her. “Are they going to experiment on me?” she asks worriedly.

Finally she does get the Archbishop’s full attention, who seems quite startled by her comment. “Experiment? Heavens, no. Perhaps use some of their magic to analyze your Crests, but nothing of which you’ll find the experience unpleasant…” the Saint trails off. “Oh, and nothing you don’t consent to. Basic human rights and all,” she adds almost as an afterthought. “If anything they’ll take one look at you and your Crests and spend the rest of the time scolding me for not having been more careful,” she says sheepishly.

“Scold you?” Edelgard sputters. “Are you even taking this seriously? Any of you? Even a little? Am I to be the new object of interest to you and the other Saints until the Goddess comes down to kill your latest toy?” she snaps out of sheer stress and anxiety. She does not want to be meddled with by not one but _five_ curious Saints like she’s some unique specimen to marvel at, perhaps prod a little at her with sticks.

Much to Edelgard’s rapidly building frustration Rhea gives her a blank look before she starts laughing.

She quickly stops however, when she catches Edelgard’s expression, which she thinks must be somewhere in between rising anger and anguish.

“Kill you? We aren’t legally allowed to kill you,” Rhea says, clearly finding the very notion a very odd thing to begin with. “Well, not unless you commit a crime that warrants the death penalty,” she muses absentmindedly. “And I doubt you’re capable of crimes severe enough for that,” she Saint shrugs and Edelgard can’t help but wonder if that’s a compliment or insult. You can hardly ever tell with this woman what the intentions behind her words are. 

“But really, don’t fret so much,” the Archbishop continues, her hands clearly antsy to get back into the messy drawer as she struggles to remain focused on Edelgard. “Us Saints haven’t been allowed to kill people outside the law since… uh… I don’t have the exact date in my mind right now but it been at least over a thousand years ago now,” Rhea explains with a serious, though visibly distracted, nod.

“That’s… reassuring,” Edelgard retorts dryly, and not believing for a second that if one of the most powerful beings on the planet want a particular human dead they don’t have ways ‘outside of the law’ to make it happen.

Briefly Claude enters her mind but she quickly shakes the thought, she’d rather not create a rift between her and a potential ally here out of baseless suspicion, even if said potential ally might be the one to covertly dispose of her one day.

The Archbishop doesn’t seem to pick up on her sarcasm nor her fear as she merely smiles in relief. “Good.”

With that her focus is back on the contents of the drawer, leaving Edelgard to stare at her blankly.

She’s wondering if she should say something while debating if she should find all of this unintentionally comical or horrifying, when Rhea finally seems to find what she was looking for. “Ah,” she exclaims softly, clearly satisfied. “There it is, I knew it had to be in here somewhere.” She fishes out a small purple bag, the top closed with a golden piece of rope woven through the fabric.

Without sparing Edelgard another glance she closes the drawer and makes her way towards her desk, leaving Edelgard feeling bemused as she awkwardly remains standing where she was left until she decides to follow the other woman, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the large wooden desk.

Rhea moves to hand the bag to Edelgard but then something seems to occur to her as she withdraws her hand.

She flashes Edelgard a kind smile. “Now, before I give you this I have this I have to explain its background to you, because while I’m sure that its meaning has been lost to time for centuries now and it won’t be recognized, I still can’t have you parade around with such an important item to a Saint, lest some of those who hold the Goddess in… less favorable esteem,” she says with a sudden dark undertone in her voice, “and are filled with conspiracy theories will see you wear it and, Heaven’s forbid, try to connect dots that aren’t there,” she finishes, her tone much more grave than the light melodious one she started out with.

Her words, along with the strange change in seriousness catch Edelgard’s attention and she feels incredibly curious all of a sudden. Something important to a Saint? Wearing it?

She looks at the Archbishop expectantly, almost impatiently so.

An amused smile tugs on the older woman’s lips, in the way she seems to find something very funny and doesn’t intend on sharing it. “By now I have gathered enough about you to know you are not as… knowledgeable about the Goddess and the Church so I can assume I’m right when I say you know even less about the time on Fodlan before the Church was fully established and took on its current shape?” she inquires, still with that small smile on her face.

“Aside from some of the common myths and the story of how the Goddess first descended on Fodlan… not a thing,” Edelgard confesses with a small shrug. Cramming over a thousand year of religious history into her mind which the Church insisted on was vital to her upbringing was painstaking enough as it was, no need for… everything that came before.

“I thought so,” Rhea smiles. “That means you haven’t the slightest idea of the roughly… two thousand years or so me and my siblings lived all over Fodlan without the structure of the Church in place to guide mankind.”

“Not a clue no,” Edelgard admits sheepishly. “Although it does sound really interesting,” she says genuinely. A world filled with Saints yet with no rigid rules of the Church imposed on mankind… the possibilities.

“I could fill you in on that some time, if you wish,” Rhea hums, wistful again as her mind is clearly back in those days, yet her offer sounded serious.

“You want to fill me in on… over two thousand years of history I missed out on,” Edelgard states blankly.

The Saint shrugs dismissively. “I’ll skip over some of the less interesting parts, I suppose,” she says with an air of nonchalance. Clearly the passage of time is something this woman experiences very different and cares little about. “But there is one interesting thing from that time I wish to explain you about, as I am sure it will be beneficial to our… predicament.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen in curiosity. Really? What is it?”

Without much ceremony Rhea loosens the wire around the bag and turns the thing upside down above her desk as she shakes it, causing its contents to fall on the wood below..

It’s… a ring.

A very ancient looking, expensive, ritualistic, most definitely sacred and lavishly decorated ring, with the centerpiece being a large, almost organic shaped, green stone.

After staring –or more like gawking- at the thing for a good few seconds Edelgard looks up to meet Rhea’s eyes. “A ring?” she says, stating the obvious.

There is most definitely a twinkle in Rhea’s eyes, which seem to light up as all of her becomes a little more lively. “Not just any ring,” she says with an air of importance. “A ring containing a Crest stone made out of my very own Crest. The only one currently in existence,” she tells Edelgard with barely contained pride.

Edelgard looks at her a good few seconds.

“A _what_ now?”

She gets that the ring is important. _Very_ important. Just not _why_ it’s important, or why it matters right now. And the thing that irks her most of all is that this Saint kept what is apparently an incredibly ancient and important ring containing some sort of magic related to her Crest in a messy drawer stuffed to the brim with all kinds of things, and didn’t seem all that sure the thing was in there for quite some time to boot.

Just how is this woman, who has one of the most important and sacred duties in all of Fodlan, even functioning normally?

This woman, who seems to be pouting at her right now. “I had hoped you’d be more enthusiastic,” she mopes. “We _are_ talking about my soul here, you know,” she continues, visibly saddened by Edelgard’s lack of an impressed reaction.

“I’m sorry, I uh… just don’t know what the ring means,” Edelgard explains bemused and feeling rather guilty. “Could you explain, please?” she tries in an attempt to ease the others sorrow.

That seems to lift the Saint’s spirits somewhat. “Ah, I suppose that part too is lost to history.” She puts a finger to her chin and seems to consider what to tell Edelgard next. “Well, back before the Church was established me and my siblings simply lived among mankind, among their different cultures and throughout their development. Still, we had much different lives than you and still had many sacred duties such as holy rituals, divination, spiritual advisors to human rulers, ending disputes between warring tribes and kingdoms… those sort of things.”

Edelgard pales a little at how easy Rhea describes her duties as ‘those sort of things’.

“Either way, despite out elevated position, we led our lives somewhat similar to that of humans, some more than others, and living among you meant bonding with some of you.”

“Bonding?”

“As Saints we are to love all mankind equally, but once you find yourself living closely among the same group of humans every single day you inevitably end up with some favorites,” Rhea explains casually.

“You have favorite humans?” Edelgard quips, not at all sure what to make of this… or what ‘favorites’ entails when it comes to a Saint.

“ _Had,_ ” Rhea corrects her, “we stopped doing that once the Church started taking its current shape and it was no longer suitable for us to live among you any longer. Our roles changed, so to speak,” she continues and Edelgard catches how her voice sounds distant all of a sudden.

“But among those favorites,” Rhea continues, her voice back to normal. “To some of them we wanted to show and the world that we saw them as an individual who mattered to us, an equal to us as much as that was possible. So whenever we bonded with a human and wanted them to be our equal, we gave them one of these rings to hold onto for the rest of their lives. ,” she says as she affectionally slides her finger around the shape of the ring on the table. “To show them and the world they were important to us, and under our protection. Because those rings contained the essence of our Crest it was a sign they were bonded as much to us as we were to them.”

Edelgard blinks once. Then twice. Then speaks without thinking. “It almost sounds like a wedding ring,” she says with a nervous laugh.

“In this day and age you could call it that, yes,” Rhea agrees and Edelgard has to suppress a startled wheeze. “But as I said, the meaning of what these rings truly signified has been long since lost to time, along with the words to explain it. It’s more that a ‘wedding ring’ is probably the closest thing you have to compare it with, with your current day views and language.”

“Oh… so what, are you now going to ‘propose’ to me with this ‘wedding ring’ that has a more ancient and significant meaning than I, with my poorly educated ‘views and language’ can comprehend,” Edelgard bristles, very much out of her depth and feeling really awkward at this point.

Rhea on the other hand seems to find her comment simply amusing. “Wouldn’t that be funny,” she smiles airily.

“No, it wouldn’t be,” Edelgard tells her harshly. She rubs her head in frustration and suddenly feels very weary. “Please just tell me what the ring is for… now… as in the present, and what it has to do with me.”

Rhea finally seems to realize she might have trailed off a little, or gave the information in the wrong order. “Right,” she murmurs. “Well I am going to give you the ring but I do hope you aren’t under the delusion that it’s a proposal after what I just told you.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Edelgard grumbles, yet knows her cheeks are reddening regardless.

“Good. See, the reason I’m giving you this is exactly because it contains the essence of my soul. Again, it’s not as if a part of my soul is inside it, my soul is still completely whole, but to make this ring I manifested the power of what my soul is made of and crystalized it, that’s the green gem you see there,” she says as she points at the ring.

“What such a gem did back in those days was establish a connection between the Crest of those who it was gifted to and the Saint who gifted it, working as some kind of medium between the two to bind them. It was mostly used to protect the wearer, grant them privileges, let them visit the Saint in places only the divine were normally allowed to enter and many more things relevant at the time.”

She peers at Edelgard almost curiously for a moment. “Seeing as our Crests have established a connection all on their own I suspect that if you would wear this ring it would work to stabilize that connection. We still won’t be able to touch and I suspect that we might grow even more sensitive to its effects.” She catches Edelgard’s look, who looks very displeased by hearing things about growing even more sensitive.

“Fine-tuned,” Rhea explains hurriedly. “With sensitive I meant we will be able to understand and experience its effects with more precision and it will be less of a persistent presence in our minds, perhaps we will even control it over time. And because of that the tugging and pulling we feel now will feel more balanced, although also maybe a little more personal as well.”

Edelgard relaxes slightly at hearing Rhea’s more sensible explanation, save for the last part. “A little more personal?” she inquires, slightly wary.

“Hmm, well the ring didn’t just act as a mediator between the Crests, but also between the souls. It made the two feel closer to one another, connect in a way that one cannot really do with just language and touching.”

Edelgard inadvertently makes a strangled noise. That sounds more than ‘a little personal’ as sounds ‘very intimate’ instead.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Rhea all but chides her. “I know I compared the ring to a wedding ring but they weren’t always given out of romantic love. Although… I guess, again with your current day language and worldviews, the odd thing humans came up to talk about fated love some hundred years ago… uhm… what was it...” She stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, her arms crosses as she calmly tries to recall a word Edelgard is sure she won’t like and also will not feel fitting at all.

“Ah,” Rhea exclaims towards the ceiling before letting her eyes fall on Edelgard. “Soulmates, that was it,” she says triumphantly. “That word might fit.”

Edelgard glares at the other woman. “With all due respect, Lady Rhea. We are not soulmates.”

The Saint sighs wearily and turns to look disappointed. “I just told you that it’s merely a word that comes close to describing it, don’t get all caught up in this with your naïve youth,” she says with a hint of frustration. “The concept of soulmates isn’t even real, just some odd concept humans came up with to make their love feel more fated and meaningful,” she huffs, seemingly offended that mankind dared to come up with the very concept. “I simply meant that with our Crests being so similar our souls are connected in a way that comes close to what humans ascribe to their notion of fated love.”

Edelgard is really beginning to wonder how much casual conversation this woman has on a regular basis with humans, as she so casually compares a bond neither of them asked for, while they are basically still strangers to each other, to rather intimate concepts like soulmates and fated lovers which humans only dare confess in their most trusted relationships, like it’s nothing at all.

“Alright then, let’s leave it at that,” she relents, deciding to drop the subject as she doesn’t feel at all like arguing with a frustrated Saint over the meaning of love.

She eyes the ring suspiciously. “Okay, I suppose what you said about the ring sounds harmless enough, we could try it.” A look at Rhea’s face tells her the woman seems to be expecting something from her. “Uh, should I put it on then?” she asks meekly.

“That would be the best way to confirm my theory, yes,” Rhea nods.

Ah, so it’s all just a theory then, and Edelgard is the test subject. Wonderful.

Oh well, things likely can’t get any worse than they already are.

Without further hesitation she picks up the ring and smoothly slides it up her ring finger.

Sadly, things could get worse.

The ring hasn’t even reached the base of her finger before her vision starts to swim and her head suddenly feels so light.

She doesn’t feel any pain, she doesn’t even feel bad at all, merely… afloat.

But her conscious feels as if it’s melting and all at once her surroundings are swirling around her.

With a loud thud her body hits the ground and her first thought is that it wasn’t her surroundings that were swirling, she was simply falling.

Her second thought is that she’s surprisingly lucid, and frankly quite annoyed, for someone who just had some kind of brainmelt and lost enough consciousness to crumple onto the floor, where she’s still lying, shivering, weak and very helpless. Although aside from that she feels pretty good, all things considered.

“Oh goodness,” she hears coming from above her and once she opens her eyes she’s met with the deep green eyes of the Archbishop who is staring down at her with more curiosity than concern, looking only vaguely unsure of what she’s supposed to do right now, and with an astounding lack of urgency. “What _are_ you doing?”

Her third thought is that the woman oddly reminds her of a praying mantis, a big green one which is currently deciding if the thing wriggling pathetically underneath them is worth the effort to be their next meal.

And with belated amusement she wonders if that’s to be her fate for her duration at Garreg Mach, to be the helpless prey of a dangerous predator, except one who doesn’t know how to hunt.

Or, hopefully, mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write Rhea much more stern and mean but nearly everything that comes out of her mouth just makes her seen a little estranged from humanity and slightly wacko while she barely has it together. It's her fault, not mine.


	8. Miss von Hresvelg'd

“Uhm, are you doing alright?” Rhea tries again after Edelgard refused to respond to her previous ‘what are you doing’ with anything but a low growl and a scowl on her face.

“I don’t know,” she groans exasperatedly. “You tell me,” she half demands. “Why did I faint?”

Rhea keeps staring at her from above, now with a quizzical and unenthusiastic expression. “I would think you would know better than I do,” she says with just a hint of weariness. “It’s your body after all. Can’t you tell why it failed?”

Edelgard glares at her and hisses. “No, I can _not._ You told me to put this ring on me and so I did and then my mind went blank.” She weakly gestures with her arms, which are barely working and limply fall onto the ground again in seconds. “And now I’m here.”

“Oh.” Rhea looks at her for what Edelgard is long enough to be considered rude before she sighs exasperatedly. “Alright, I’ll figure it out then,” she says and clearly is of the opinion that Edelgard is being very bothersome for not solving this herself.

She lazily raises her hand and all Edelgard sees is a feeble glow emitting from it, which she really thinks cannot possibly be very helpful or do anything meaningful.

“Ah,” Rhea mumbles to herself. “Of course.” She gives Edelgard a slightly apologetic smile. “Sorry, I forgot to take into account the connection is much more stronger and direct as our Crests match and I was accidentally draining your life force through the ring.”

Edelgard slowly blinks at the taller woman and needs a moment to process what she just heard. “Well then stop doing it!” she exclaims out of anguish. Her life force being drained… is she slowly dying?

“Yes, yes. I will,” Rhea says and purses her lips, looking rather displeased at being hurried by Edelgard.

With another lazy motion she closes her hand and makes a vague tugging motion.

Again Edelgard thinks that whatever Rhea is trying really ought to require more effort than a simple wave of her hand, but a moment later she is proven very wrong.

Something hits her, like a wave washing all over her. Touching every cell of her skin, and everything underneath.

She inhales sharply and then her whole body relaxes, not out of the weakness it was riddled with earlier but out of a rush of comfort, which seems to come out of nowhere.

All of a sudden the spot where she’s laying on the floor becomes the best and most comfortable spot to lie on in all of Garreg Mach.

Surely she must be drunk, but she cannot really find it in herself to care about that now. This is the best kind of dunk she’s ever been. All she wants is to curl under her blankets to get more comfortable and contemplate the meaning of life or something. She feels confident enough she can figure out the meaning of life in her current state.

For quite some time she’s hazily staring up at the ceiling, with a hint of Rhea in her vision, who is rudely blocking her sight of the glorious ceiling.

“Can you get up now?” the woman asks her, and even in her enlightened state of being Edelgard can still detect the impatience and annoyance in the Archbishop’s voice.

“I can yes,” she slurs. “But I really don’t want to.”

Rhea sighs and then makes a displeased noise. “Well I suppose that means it’s working properly now. You just… lie there and take some time to let your body get adjusted to the ring’s effects.”

With that she’s gone from Edelgard’s vision –and also her thoughts- which is very pleasing to her because now she can admire the wonderful ceiling. “I will,” she says and raises her hand to make a thumbs up gesture, only to quickly get distracted by the ring on her finger.

It’s really beautiful. Why hadn’t she noticed before how beautiful it was?

It feels warm too, almost as if it’s alive.

…No, that’s _weird._

But it does feel very comfortable, and the feeling spreads through her body.

It reminds her of being hugged.

When was the last time she was hugged? A real hug. Not one in greeting or something stupidly superficial like that.

She liked that. Being hugged. Or being held.

“I want a hug,” she tells the ceiling.

“No,” the ceiling responds and sounds rather annoyed, and suspiciously like Lady Rhea.

She whines angrily at the ceiling.

“We don’t hug one another here at Garreg Mach, we greet each other with the propriety of the nobility and we refrain from unnecessary physical intimacy on these holy grounds.”

Edelgard bursts into laughter. Very loud laughter. “That’s hilarious. I might have taken you seriously but the very first day I came here the very Archbishop who rules these ‘holy grounds’ put one finger on me and then desperately held onto me for dear life. Made noises and everything too. If anyone needs a hug it’s her.”

The ceiling is silent for some time and Edelgard wonders if it left.

“That’s it. I’m ignoring you until you come back to your senses,” comes the sharp and seemingly final response from the ceiling.

“But I really liked how she looked in that moment,” Edelgard says in an attempt to keep the conversation going. “When I first saw her I thought she looked beautiful like art, but once she touched me she suddenly looked so… warm. It make her look beyond perfect beyond art, as art is cold.”

She was under the impression the ceiling surely could do something with the words she just threw at it but alas, her attempt is in vain because no matter how long she waits (and she has no idea how long that is right now) the ceiling rudely continues to ignore her.

“Fiiiine,” Edelgard slurs and with some effort slings her arm over her eyes to cover them.

There, now the ceiling is gone.

She lays there for quite some time, although time eludes her right now. Unlike the meaning of life, which she has found the answer to. Several times in fact, and then forgot it each time. Not really that important, and surely she would have remembered if she had been in the company of her bed and blanket to add to her comfort.

Because she’s really very comfortable, even without her blanket. Everything feels just right and she can’t remember the last time she was this free of any worries. School was full of worries. Of deadlines, of wanting to reach out to people but being afraid of getting hurt, of fear she’d lose control of her magic.

Her time after school was full of worries too, but came in the form of an endless meaninglessness that seemed to hang over her so heavily and was going nowhere. What would become of her? She struggled to find any direction in life and worried if there was even any meaningful future left for her. One where she would find peace and purpose, and people to share her life with again.

And now she’s here… it takes her a little while to remember where ‘here’ is but when she does she chuckles. Right, Garreg Mach, a prestigious academy and monastery for good little believers.

She has no idea what she’s even doing here, but despite feeling terribly out of place her life has been more engaging and entertaining than it has been in years. She still feels rather directionless, but all of Garreg Mach seems to be designed to instill purpose in the people who attend, even if it’s only to serve the Goddess.

And the people are nice. Mercedes is patient, Claude is amusing and she’s determined to find out some sort of information about him that’s true. And any others haven’t really treated her as distant as she’s grown used to over the span of so many years.

Oh, and then there’s Lady Rhea, who frustrates her and upsets her at every turn, yet also likes the same insects as her! And they share Crests, or souls or something. What a coincidence! The woman is such an enigma, and Edelgard likes solving puzzles.

“I’m happy,” she says to no one in particular, as the ceiling is still absent.

“That’s nice for you, dear,” _something_ still responds.

Edelgard mules over what that something could have possibly been, but the thought quickly slips from her mind. She simply cannot phantom that anything outside herself currently exists.

And with that she loses herself within her own thoughts.

They vary from absolutely stellar thoughts to things that make no sense at all.

She catches herself humming several times, yet each time she does so she promptly finds herself unable to keep humming, with the ability to hum suddenly gone from her, neither can she remember what she hummed, if they were familiar songs.

A few time she jolts awake, only to conclude she wasn’t sleeping in the first place, which she concludes based on… things.

She misses the ceiling.

* * *

“Oh, look who is back home on the planet,” she hears coming, unnervingly cheeringly, from beside her and all of a sudden she realizes she’s sitting. Confusedly she turns her head and finds herself looking up to the desk, above which she sees the head of the Archbishop peer down at her.

She rubs her head and tries to make sense of the array of disorganized thoughts currently running through her mind.

Once they do start to make sense, and she can tell the weird whims and thoughts of her brain apart from actual memories, she really wishes she could just forget them.

“Oh,” she says devoid of any emotion. “Oh _no,”_ she repeats, her voice now slightly higher.

“Oh, _yes,_ ” the Archbishop smiles, audibly satisfied by Edelgard’s rapidly growing panic and embarrassment.

“What happened?” she dares to ask while dreading the answer.

The Archbishop shrugs. “You tell me,” she says with a subtle yet definitely _evil_ smile ghosting on her lips.

Edelgard feels her face go red and buries her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I… just the ring and I had all these feelings and I couldn’t think straight at all…” she flounders awkwardly.

“Hmm,” comes the unimpressed response.

Edelgard groans into her hands.

“How about this,” the Saint continues, unperturbed by Edelgard’s embarrassment. “You never speak to anyone, and that includes me, about our little ‘hugging incident’ on your first day here and I will spare your dignity and not mention to anyone you spend over an hour on my floor babbling to yourself,” she says thinly.

Edelgard dares to look up from her hands. “I was talking to the ceiling, mostly…” she mumbles, immediately concluding she’s not helping her case.

Rhea raises an eyebrow “Aha.”

“But that sounds fair.”

A nod. “I thought so.”

“Wait, I laid here over an hour?” Edelgard asks in disbelief.

“Something like that, yes. Closer to two hours, really.”

“What?” Edelgard bristles. “And you just left me there?”

“Hmm.”

There is not even a hint of emotion, concern or anything in the Saint’s voice.

“Why didn’t you… I don’t know… help me? What if I was dying?” Edelgard sputters.

Rhea seems once again unimpressed. “You weren’t,” she states nonchalantly. “Besides, what was I supposed to do? Pick you up?” She shakes her head dismissively. “No, best to just let you get over your little episode by yourself.”

“You were fine, I kept an eye on your vitals,” she huffs in annoyance when Edelgard glares angrily at her. “Your body just needed to adjust to the influx of magic in your system, I imagine the experience was quite soothing.” She raises her eyebrows and gives Edelgard a knowing look, yet refrains from saying anything more.

Yes, soothing. Let’s stick with that, Edelgard thinks wryly to herself.

What a perfect picture of a Saint.

Angry and _very_ done with Lady Rhea Edelgard scrambles back up to her feet, managing to regain her balance after wobbling only a little.

“Good job,” Rhea praises her while sounding subtly disappointing. “Could you take off the ring please?”

The words hit Edelgard like a brick and it’s as every cell in her body is appalled by the very notion and she’s very close to telling Rhea that if she wants her ring back she’ll have to pry it from her cold, dead hands when she realizes just what kind of effect it has on her.

The constant tugging and pulling which had been plaguing her mind is still there but reduced to an almost welcome presence, and even though she has come back to her senses that feeling of comfort and peace still clings to her. The very thought of giving away the ring again leaves her feeling cold and empty.

“It’s only so I can put it on a necklace instead,” the Saint tells her when Edelgard had been staring at her with wide, fear-filled, eyes for a good few seconds. “You’d be breaking the dress code by wearing jewelry… although you’re already doing that by insisting on wearing the lower half of the men’s uniform,” the Saint mutters and furrow her brows, clearly still displeased by Edelgard’s firm insistence in her choice of attire. “But more importantly, I do not want to risk anyone recognizing the meaning behind the ring, so you can wear it, but out of sight.” She gets an amused expression. “And well, it does really look like a wedding ring, although a rather lavish and old-fashioned one.”

“Oh,” Edelgard murmurs, once again embarrassed by her extreme reaction and flushing because she really is getting something akin to a wedding ring from a Saint, if only as a tool for their mutual benefit.

To proof her claim Rhea picks up a thin silver chain from her desk, looks at it for a few seconds and then awkwardly puts it down on the desk again and shoves it closer to Edelgard.

“Put it on yourself.”

With an exaggerated display in an attempt to salvage her pride Edelgard does so, only to fumble with the lock of the necklace, which is really tiny, for way too long to have any of said pride still in-tact by the time she manages to close it.

“There, much better,” Rhea congratulates her. “You already got well acquainted with some of its effects while you were admiring my ceiling.” Edelgard doesn’t miss the way the woman’s eyebrows raise in satisfied amusement at Edelgard’s pitiful display of ‘getting acquainted. “But you’ll likely find more ways to make use of it, and control how much of the effects of our Crest’s connection you’ll experience.”

She narrows her eyes at Edelgard and her expression turns stern. “ _Don’t_ abuse that control,” she warns Edelgard darkly.

Edelgard immediately feels as if she’s being reprimanded for something she hasn’t even done yet, or know how to do it, for that matter. “In what way could I possibly abuse the ring?” she wonders.

“Well, until now our connection was beyond your control, I’m not entirely sure but it’s very likely that you’ll now have much more control over it, and in more ways too. I’d rather not have you know of my precise location at all times, or what I’m thinking or feeling.”

“I could do that?” Edelgard exclaims, sounding a tad too impressed for Rhea’s liking.

“I am not sure, but if you find you can… _refrain_ from doing it.”

While the Saint’s voice was soft the menacing undertone in it has Edelgard gulp and nod respectfully. “Duly noted.”

A silence falls between them when the Archbishop doesn’t respond and Edelgard stares at Lady Rhea, who stares back at her and Edelgard feels the tension between them rise at lightning speed.

She’s the first one to break.

“You’re still upset about what I said about the hugging incident, aren’t you?” she blurts out.

The other woman narrows her eyes. “Impressive, Miss von Hresvelg,” she says icily. “Within the span of less than ten minutes you managed to break our mutual promise.” A malicious smile tugs on her lips and her eyes turn darker, making Edelgard swallow hard. “Does this mean I get to tell one person about you floundering on my floor now?” she hums questioningly. “Because if so I’ll probably tell Claude, so you can be sure all of Garreg Mach will know within the span of a day.”

“No, please don’t,” Edelgard nearly pleads her as she feels herself pale. “I’m sorry, I won’t mention it again, I promise.”

The Saint seems rather pleased with her response and flashes her an innocent smile. “Very well.”

Her voice is too low to be ‘innocent’, Edelgard decides.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” the Archbishop says not so subtly. “You already took up quite some of my time and I have more important things that require my attention.”

Edelgard is very _very_ close to asking the woman what kind of important things but decides not to push her luck even more.

“I shall leave you be,” she says with a polite bow. “Your Holiness,” she adds respectfully.

“My what?”

“Your… uh…” Edelgard trails off as the dreadful feeling that she said something really awkward creeps up on her.

“Ah, let me guess…Claude,” Rhea states, not at all sounding surprised.

“Yes… I’m sorry, I thought that was an appropriate way to address you,” Edelgard admits sheepishly.

The other woman chuckles. “No, no one calls me that,” she smiles and Edelgard feels relieved some of the tension is gone now. “Well, except for Claude, apparently,” Rhea murmurs with a wry smile.

“Any of my official titles are fine,” the Saint continues when Edelgard remains feeling terribly awkward and too afraid to speak up again lest she’d call the woman something else that wasn’t appropriate. “Or just Lady Rhea.”

Alright, she can do that, Edelgard thinks to herself.

“Very well then, have a nice evening, Lady Rhea,” she smiles and quickly heads for the door.

“You too.”

It sounded nice, Edelgard thinks. Friendly even.

* * *

She makes it to the dining hall around the peak hours and it’s crowded. She can’t find any familiar faces and luckily she can find an table with so little people sitting on it she can sit on the far edge and both she and the strangers can politely ignore each other.

Early into dinner she thought she was feeling rather good, but before she has finished her food her mood has dropped significantly. She’s exhausted, she realizes. Emotionally, mostly. Not just because she lost her mind for over an hour but also because all the things Lady Rhea told her while she was lucid are starting to really get through to her.

It’s as if she’s getting involved into things beyond her control she really has been trying to avoid all her life and it’s very daunting.

Moments after she finished her last bite she can barely keep her eyes open and her body is shivering out of sheer exhaustion, so with her mind struggling to keep up with her, she quickly heads for the safety and solitude of her room.

It’s almost too much effort to get into her nightwear and once she does she lets herself fall on her bed and needs a moments before she can summon the energy to worm herself under the blankets. It’s only then that she finally notices a clear difference in how she felt before wearing the ring, as a lighter yet equally calming sensation comes over her and she can’t help herself from wrapping the blanket more tightly around herself as she snuggles into her pillow. Her minds is of the opinion she could easily stay here forever and ignore the world around her.

It barely even occurs to her she’s tightly clutching the ring hanging from her neck as sleep claims her.

She does notice it in the morning however, when she’s been awake for quite some time yet can’t get herself to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed and she becomes keenly aware that the ring is making her feel quite compliant. She would have called it lethargic if she didn’t feel so happy.

_Home._

Yes, it truly feels like that.

It’s only when she recalls the Archbishop’s earlier words about being able to fiddle and fine-tune the effects that she tries focusing on the magic in the ring, still held in her hand and radiating a comforting warmth. She can’t really put it into words but if she focuses on the ring’s magic, her own magic, along with her mind and breathing she can indeed take some control over the way Rhea’s Crest has been influencing hers, and after some time she has reduced its effects to a gentle, almost welcome, presence in the back of her head.

Which means that with nothing left to do, it’s back to moping around for her.

She makes the tail end of breakfast and eats it in silence before once again aimlessly wandering Garreg Mach again.

At one point she decides to look for Claude, and she’s slightly proud with herself she finds the wyvern stables in one try, yet her efforts are in vain as there is no Claude in sight, and he doesn’t magically appear after she called his name either.

It occurs to her Claude likely doesn’t spend his entire day here, but she has also no idea where else to look for him, or how to get there for that matter.

Giving up on finding him, she’s back to wandering.

After having safely stayed outside mostly she finally musters up the courage to enter the more complex looking buildings on the perimeter.

She’s lost again fairly quickly but manages to keep herself in more common and welcoming places by simply watching which halls and chambers are the most crowded and follow that.

When she opens two heavy doors to see what place of interest could possibly be on the other side she is ecstatic to realize she stumbled upon an impressive looking library.

She’s even more ecstatic once the sleepy and barely interested librarian tells her that she can takes up to six books back to her dormitory room for a maximum of four weeks if she signs them up along with her name.

So a good half hour later she’s on her way back to her room with a stack of six heavy books in her arms. She chose mostly fiction, which had never been a passion of hers, aside from some of the stories her mother shared with her or let her read, but now she feels she could really use a break from reality. When she stumbled across the aisles full of books on history she couldn’t help but remember the spark of interest she had felt when the Archbishop had told her of a time before the Church was established and after some searching she comes across a book recording what the world was like, how the people lived and in what ways they practiced religion in the many centuries before the Church was unified and its rules and doctrines became widespread across Fodlan, and incorporated into law. She takes it with her, along with a book detailing the various Saints and their historical deeds, mostly centering around the five that remained, figuring that if Lady Rhea somehow does make good on her promise to tell Edelgard of the distant past, Edelgard might as well play her part and read up on it herself beforehand.

After some stubborn wandering around without recognizing anything familiar enough that will lead her back to the dormitories she caves in rather quickly, as the books are getting increasingly heavy, and asks one of the passing nuns where to go.

Confident with the directions she got from the nun, who was only a tiny bit condescending about it, as the dormitories where less than a five minute walk away from them, Edelgard easily makes it back to her room and drops the books on her desk.

She has planned to delve into one of the fiction books she brought to ease her mind and forget about the world for a while, but without even really realizing it she suddenly finds herself already six pages into the book detailing the world before the Church.

It’s fascinating. A world with much more individual freedom, even when it came to practicing religion, which was still done throughout Fodlan dutifully. But different kingdoms, even different cities and small cultures that lived more isolated from the various large cities where much life revolved about and lived relatively close to, all had unique ways of worshipping.

Fire festivals, where great figures of wood and branches were build and then set aflame at night to let the Goddess know how grateful the people were and how they prayed for a bountiful and safe future.

Various mysterious small monasteries where children or even adults were send to, remained there for decades in a shroud of the unknown only to come out as wise and powerful monks who would spend their days traveling or advising rulers, even those kind of passionate and hotheaded rules who were usually far too stubborn to let others dictate what they should do seemed to respect them and their wisdom, despite no one knowing just _what_ it had been they had learned in their many years at the secluded monasteries.

Thousands of people gathering in plazas and using their Crest’s magic in unison to sing hymns and songs whose words supposedly contained magic and could alter the future.

It all sounds fascinating to Edelgard and it irks her how it’s rather blatant that the person who wrote this, or who was ordered to write it, clearly wrote it as a devoted member of the Church after it was established who is of the opinion that the past, while not exactly evil, also was not the correct way to worship.

Edelgard can see some of the reasons why. Various forms of worship clashed with one another and people would grow wary of those who practiced their beliefs in a way that contradicted their own, despite all of them worshipping the same Goddess and her Children.

It led to infighting among people, chaos and on occasion, rejecting the faith altogether.

The Saints are also mentioned frequently. As peacekeepers, guides, prophets, messagers from the Goddess, beings with a sense of foresight as the people documented the appearance of certain Saints at seemingly random places right before disaster struck or something else happened that they couldn’t have feasibly predicted without a form of magic mankind didn’t possess.

But just like Lady Rhea said, they were described as much more human than they are treated nowadays.

They were considered imperfect, for starters. Flawed and prone to whims, emotional just like any human but vastly more powerful, nearly exempt from the law and with an incredible amount of influence. It was considered wise not to anger one, yet the way it’s written gives Edelgard the idea that individual humans were free to object to and even argue with a Saint if they felt their advice, orders or actions weren’t just. All that’s written is that it’s wise to know _how_ to respectfully argue with a Saint if one wished to do so.

Before Edelgard realizes it several hours have passed. She only becomes aware of it when she feels a stab of hunger, which might have been there for quite some time already but not yet strong enough to draw her attention away from the book.

With a sigh she closes it and makes her way for the dining hall. With her hand on the door it occurs to her that she can simply take the book with her and now in a much better mood she picks it up from her desk and makes her way to get lunch.

She’s a bit late, but there are still quite some people eating there so she can just unnoticed get a sandwich and a drink and quietly find an empty table to continue her reading.

In under ten minutes her reading is rudely interrupted, however.

“Hello princess, heard you were looking for me,” a familiar voice behind her announces his appearance, startling Edelgard, who had been in deep concentration, and causing her to jolt up in her seat.

“Claude,” she bristles, yet hates how her voice still quivers in a too high pitch to come even remotely across as calm and uncaring.

Still, she turns around to greet him, which turns out not to be necessary as he casually slumps onto the bench right next to her.

His eyes are practically ogling the tome Edelgard was reading so she hurriedly closes it and puts it with the cover downwards so he can’t tell what she’s reading without making an effort.

Claude pouts at her.

Edelgard ignorers his sad face to address a more pressing matter.

“How did you know I was looking for you? It was hours ago and I didn’t tell a soul.”

Claude’s eyes narrow and a stately expression settles on his features. “The wyverns told me,” he nods seriously.

“Aha.”

Claude shrugs. “You not believing me is not my problem. In fact, it will only work in my favor.”

He receives a glare in return but Edelgard cannot hide her grin. “Such a mystery you are, dangerous old crime lord.”

Her companion gasps in shock and puts a hand to his chest. “A crime lord? What _are_ you on about? And _old?_ I’m barely in my mid-thirties,” he says, sounding truly aghast.

The amount of emotion he pours into his words and gestures has Edelgard momentarily worried she said something incredibly wrong or inappropriate again, but she knows better by now and one good look at his eyes reveals the glint he’s unable to hide.

“Alright then, surprise me,” she laughs. “What are you this time?”

Claude seems terribly pleased by her question, moving his head a little closer to hers to he can talk quietly with no passerby overhearing them. “I’m actually a prince,” he says in hushed tones. “A runaway prince hiding from his duty to take the throne in a faraway kingdom.”

“Wow,” Edelgard nods impressively. “A prince huh, who would have thought that?” With a grin she adds, “Which faraway kingdom, may I ask? Just out of curiosity.”

The runaway prince gets a solemn look on his features and then shrugs. “Oh, no reason in telling you. You wouldn’t have heard of it anyway,” he tells her purposely sounding condescendingly.

“Yes, I bet that’s the reason,” Edelgard deadpans.

“Hmm, speaking of princess though, I have bad news for you as I’m leaving shortly on a secret mission that will last a few days.”

Now Claude has Edelgard’s full attention, because of the dreadful thought of him leaving, but also because of this supposed secret mission, which might be completely made up for all she knows, but still she is curious.

“A secret mission?” she inquires.

Claude nods and drags his finger across his lips in a ‘my lips are sealed’ gesture.

“And this secret mission involves princes?” Edelgard cannot help but pry, as that was what made Claude break the subject to her in the first place.

Another gasp and this time when Claude looks startled Edelgard genuinely can’t tell if he’s faking it or now.

Claude quickly recovers though. “Ah, well I guess the monkey is out of the sleeve now,” he says dismissively.

“The what now?”

“Oh, that’s a saying from some small faraway country, you wouldn’t have heard of it,” Claude tells her and Edelgard really wants to wipe that smug look off his face. “It means that the secret is out now and it can’t be helped,” Claude explains. “I’m taking Bessie to Faerghus to pick up the young prince there. Ever since his father died two years ago there has been unrest brewing in both the royal court and the country itself. His mother is adamant her son gets out of there for a while and safely remain at Garreg Mach as a student in the meantime.”

Edelgard heard about that. The king died in an incident but the circumstances were so vague that many people found it suspicious and called foul play. Ever since the kingdom struggles to remain as stable as it was before, with conspiracy theories tearing at its seams and pointing to all kinds of people who could possibly be involved.

Something shocks her from her thoughts.

“Wait, did you just causally reveal this entire secret mission of yours to me?”

Claude raises his head and considers her words. “Yes, it seems I did,” he tells her nonchalantly. “Well, that means if the contents of my mission leak I know at who to point,” he continues, his voice slightly lower.

Edelgard sputters. “Did you just… threaten me by ‘accidentally’ revealing a secret to me and now tell me you can blackmail me if the contents of your mission are leaked?”

“Princess!” Claude exclaims astonished. “How could you ever think I would stoop so low and hurt you that way.” He stills and his eyes get a glint in them that doesn’t bode well. “… Although that _is_ a handy trick to keep in mind when say… someone reveals to the Archbishop one of the many nicknames I came up with to call her.”

The knowing look in his eyes, along with a grin he can’t suppress, says it all.

“Oh… you know… I’m really sorry, it was an accident I swear. I thought it was a normal way to address her.”

Claude snorts and breaks into laughter. “Oh, Heavens. I wish I had been there to see her face.”

He receives a growl in return. “How did you even find out?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Claude says gravely, the purposely exaggerated air of mystery dripping from every syllable. “And also, I’m not going to.”

Edelgard sighs and decides to give up.

“So you’re really leaving?” she asks him instead, not able to hide the sadness she feels bubbling in her chest at that.

“Mhm, I’m afraid so. But I see you’ve got a book there on her Holy Crankiness, Saint of Whimsicality, to keep you company.”

Unable to hold back her laughter Edelgard gently elbows him in the ribs. “I’m going to tell her you called her that,” she teases.

“You do that, then I will tell people you leaked sensitive state secrets of Faerghus, that should get you off my back for a while… and behind bars as well.”

Paling and looking increasingly worried Edelgard stares at the man. “You wouldn’t,” she says daringly, yet also slightly afraid.

“Wanna bet?”

“That’s… that’s a _disproportionate_ amount of retaliation, Claude!” Edelgard bristles.

“You say that, but you have no clue what the Archbishop would do to me if she would find out I called her that,” Claude responds and the subdued fear in his voice sounds almost genuine enough to believe.

It causes something to occur to Edelgard. “Just what is it between you and the Headmistress? Do you like or dislike her?”

Crossing his arms Claude deeply contemplates her question for a short moment.

“Both.” He settles on.

“Both?”

“Yes, I like her and I dislike her.” He looks in thought for another moment. “I also dislike that I like her and I really like disliking her,” he adds almost as an afterthought.

“Aha,” Edelgard hums dryly. “So what is your general consensus on her?”

“Well, I like her more than I dislike her… I think. I definitely like disliking her more than I dislike liking her, so I guess I am fond of her holiness, all things considered.”

Edelgard has to go over all the liking and disliking in her mind a few times before she finally understands what Claude means. “That makes a startling amount of sense, if I think about it hard enough.”

Claude grins. “I have my moments,” he says with pride. “What about you? For a nun as unenthusiastically as you are, you sure seem intrigued by the leading lady of those who serve the Goddess with such enthusiasm.”

After wiping yet another smile of her face for Claude’s creative descriptions of Rhea she answers him. “She gets on my nerves,” she tells him bluntly. “Terribly so.”

“That bad huh,” Claude says empathically and pats her shoulder in support. “Impressive though, most people deeply value each word that comes out of her mouth without a second thought. It takes a special brand of stubbornness to realize not all that she says are deep words of wisdom.”

Edelgard groans, relieved someone seems to understand her peril. “She says the weirdest things, rude too. You have no idea.”

“I don’t no… but I have an inkling,” Claude hums inconspicuously. “How did that meeting between you two go? Not well I take? If she still gets on your nerves and all.”

“If you still want to keep the honor of putting me behind bars it’s probably best if I don’t reveal anything,” Edelgard says grimly.

With a serious nod Claude moves to lean his head on his arm. “Duly noted.”

“There has been… progress though,” Edelgard mumbles, desperate to reveal even just a sliver of all this pent up tension inside her as a result of all the revelations Rhea has been causally bombarding her with the past days.

“I’m glad, I was afraid she might truly steal your soul when you went to meet her yesterday. It’s a relief to hear things are going better instead.”

Edelgard is in the middle of a pleased sound in agreement when she abruptly stills as she catches the odd choice of words Claude used.

Or not odd. Suspicious. Terribly suspicious, especially coming from Claude, whom she feels she knows well enough after only two meetings to know that no word from him is an accident or a coincidence.

After hearing Rhea talk about their shared Crests and their souls almost non-stop there is no way Claude just ‘happened’ to opt for that choice of words.

She tries to stare him down, her eyes narrowed, yet Claude seems unperturbed, doesn’t seem to notice it even.

Although Edelgard has no doubt he is acutely noticing and simply opts to wait and see until she says what’s on her mind.

“Alright, fess up. How much do you know?” she tells him sternly once her patience eludes her.

That was clearly not the best way to approach this, as Claude breaks into a wide grin. “Not a thing. Or not nearly enough to ease my curious mind, but your words just now were a delightful hint in what direction I should look more closely,” he declares happily.

Edelgard groans angrily in frustration, not at all used to being outplayed so easily and often like this. “Stop snooping around!” she hisses at him. “No actually, scratch that. _Keep_ snooping around, but tell me what you find, I’m curious too.”

“Ah, our holy Saint is doing the good old ‘keeping you in the dark about stuff that sounds really disturbing and quite important to your general wellbeing’ O see,” her companion laughs. “Oh, but do I smell a new partner in crime?” he asks her eagerly.

“Yes, and while I have to lay low for now I can even help you once her watchful eye loses interest in me,” Edelgard nods, trying to curb her enthusiasm.

“I doubt that will happen anytime soon, I’ve never seen Lady Rhea as interested in anyone as she is in you.” Claude scowls and makes a noise of frustration. “It drives me crazy to find out _why._ ”

Edelgard immediately feels herself fluster, despite knowing the true, very practical and impersonal reason, she holds Rhea’s interest.

“Aha! I see the interest is mutual,” Claude wastes no time in telling her once he catches her reddened cheeks.

With another groan Edelgard lowers her head onto the table. “No, Claude. Don’t make it awkward. It’s much more complicated than that.”

She feels another comforting tap on her shoulder. “Say no more,” he says reassuringly. “I will find out exactly what this complicated matter is on my own before long,” he adds, much _less_ reassuringly.

“Keep me out of the fray once she catches you and publicly flays you,” Edelgard grumbles against the table.

“Won’t be needed. I have snooped thoroughly all over Garreg Mach and through all its inhabitants, and even places much more hostile places than this peaceful monastery , and as you can see, I have yet to be publicly flayed …or get caught at all for that matter,” Claude assures her confidently.

The Edelgard before attending Garreg Mach would have been very worried, stressed beyond belief and determined to protect herself.

The Edelgard who is only a week into being at Garreg Mach raises her head to look at her odd companion and laughs along with him. Within less than a week she went from being an outcast with malfunctioning Crests treated by all members of the Church with varying degrees of awkwardness or flat out contempt to someone with the Crest of a Saint and the Goddess herself, who now, along with the other Saints seem to be turning Edelgard into their next fun cosmic plaything.

The least she can do to not limply float along this stream and instead try to waddle back upwards is to join Claude in his schemes to get to the bottom of this, with or without Rhea knowing.

He stays with her a little longer, grabbing what Edelgard considers a pitiful lunch and munching on it while he tells her of things that aren’t secrets or threats, before he announces he really ought to go and prepare his leave.

“Try not to tell anyone why I’m gone, alright?” he tells her as he steps out of the bench. “I want to come and find you once I return, maybe introduce you to my ‘secret charge’, and I’d hate to come back and find you behind bars stuffed in the dungeons. Going there is above my pay grade.”

“Very kind of you,” Edelgard sneers and pokes his ribs, causing him to momentarily lose balance as he was still in the process of moving over the bench and had one leg in the air.

In return he lightly taps the back of her had. “ _Rude,_ princess,” he chides her.

“You deserved it. And _stop_ calling me princess!”

“But it’s so _fitting_ for you,” Claude pouts at her.

“It’s not.”

“Sure, and I’m not a prince,” he shrugs with nonchalant disbelief.

“Either way,” he continues, “it’s really time I take my leave now, and so I bid thee adieu.”

He’s in the middle of a stiff little bow when he abruptly looks up again. “Oh, that means ‘farewell’ in another language, but you probably haven’t heard of it.”

Edelgard sputters once again, unable to believe this man. “I _know_ what it means Claude, every damn noble who fancies themselves someone interesting uses that phrase,” she utters in frustration, yet the amusement she secretly feels deep down is not entirely hidden.

Claude flashes her yet another smirk before he waves at her and turns around.

“That’s exactly what a princess would say,” he says as he walks off, not even bothering to turn his head. “Also _language!”_

Edelgard nearly slips up as she was less than a second away from purposely yell some obscenities after him, just to upset him more, before remembering where she is and just what kind of people she is surrounded with.

She’s not sure if nuns in-training get detention but she’s sure that if she had yelled the things she was thinking of out loud she would have learned if they did very quickly.

In all likelihood, Claude was hoping she would just do that so he could have a wonderful time watching the dining hall drop dead silent after Edelgard had gotten her frustrations off her chest.

“Asshole,” she grumbles quietly to her empty plate, just to get the last word.

Still, inwardly she’s smiling because Claude said he want to come looking for _her_ specifically once he returns, and that’s something to look forward to.

* * *

Claude seems to have been talking the truth about his mission, or at least about the ‘leaving on Bessie part’ as when Edelgard passes by the stables, still maintaining a respectful distance, she can see her enclosure empty.

Despite having met him only twice now, she finds she’s missing Claude sorely already. It’s not necessarily spending time with him that she misses, but instead the knowledge that he is around Garreg Mach somewhere, and apparently able to find her whenever he wants to, is a comforting thought. Despite how he likes to shroud himself in mystery and lies, Edelgard can’t help but feel she could rely on him, should she really need to.

She finds out just how sorely she misses Claude when Rhea picks up a new hobby and Edelgard has no one to vent about it to.

That is because Rhea’s new ‘hobby’ boils down to hunting down Edelgard minutes after she has left her room to reprimand her about something small –and in Edelgard’s humble opinion, meaningless- that the woman somehow caught wind of.

“ _Miss von Hresvelg,_ it seems you have missed dinner this morning, as a nun and a young woman it is important to take care of your health, young lady.”

“ _Miss von Hresvelg,_ your lights were on three hours past midnight this night, unless you are of the habit of sleeping with the lights on I want to sternly insist that you are to _sleep_ at night.”

“ _Miss von Hresvelg,_ you missed my sermon this morning, do I need you to remind you those are considered mandatory or were you sleeping in? Because if so that is yet _another_ thing I feel you ought to work on. A good nun is an early riser.”

“ _Miss von Hresvelg,_ it has come to my attention that you spend nearly all of your time inside your dormitory room. I know classes and your official duties do not start until next week but I must urge you to at least attempt to get to know the inner workings of Garreg Mach and make more effort to socialize.”

Up until now Edelgard’s responses to getting ‘ _Miss von Hresvelg’d_ ’ had been nothing but demure bows, apologies, agreements and promises of improvement, sincere or not, as she really did not want to cross this woman wrongly again and was also still terribly embarrassed by the memory of herself babbling nonsense on the Saint’s floor, which assaulted her mind each time she was met with the piercing eyes of the Archbishop looming over her.

But now she snaps.

“Well I would really like to socialize more but each time I leave my room I immediately become the target of a dangerous predator on the prowl around here,” she glowers and narrows her eyes at the taller woman defiantly.

For several long – and for Edelgard nerve wrecking- seconds the Saint clearly has no clue what, or rather _who_ Edelgard is referring to, and looks terribly confused, bordering on worried.

All of that slips from her face like water and makes place for rapidly rising anger and by the time she finds the words to speak her cheeks are flushed red and she’s all but fuming.

“How _dare_ you,” she sneers in a low voice, suddenly looking much more imposing than the almost quirky woman Edelgard talked about insects with days prior. “I go out of my way to look after you and you have the _nerve_ to insult me for it?” she bristles, her nostrils flaring and her fists clenched.

“Looking after me?” Edelgard echoes incredulously. “Harassing is the word you’re looking for, I leave my room and within ten minutes you’re on my trail to scold me for something nonsensical.”

Now Rhea seems to find Edelgard’s choice of words unacceptable. “Nonsensical?” she says with thinly veiled veneer. “All I’m trying to do is help you get adjusted and make sure you take proper care of yourself and you dare calling my advice nonsensical?”

Edelgard has half a mind to tear down Rhea’s belief she’s ‘helping’ and not just making her even more tense, but decides that the inevitable fight that will follow is not worth it, and also one she will not win.

“My apologies,” she drawls, her voice purposely calm, bordering on sweet. “I wasn’t aware that your job was not only to be my Saint, Archbishop and Headmistress but also to be my _mother.”_

Well, now she’s done it. One look at the Saint’s face says it’s all. She’s truly angry now, along with deeply insulted. “You insolent little _brat,_ ” she sneers. “You are beyond ungrateful. You are deliberately sabotaging my attempts to help you, and sabotaging yourself as well. You disrespect the Goddess, disrespect _me,_ and you do not behave-”

“Argh!” Edelgard interrupts the Archbishop’s angry ranting inelegantly. “You drive me insane, you know that?” she tells her exasperatedly. “Utterly mad.”

Rhea looks at her with wide and shocked eyes, while Edelgard rapidly feels whatever flare of dumb courage that overcame her fade from her, and instead the tension rising between them quickly becomes too much. She’s suddenly terrified of what the other woman will say, of what she herself will say. She’s too frustrated and stressed, and afraid that if pushed even a bit further she will say things that will damage their already rocky relationship irreparably.

“Goodbye,” she blurts out clumsily and swiftly turns around to make a break for it, only barely managing to keep herself from running and instead restraining herself to a brisk and hurried walk.

Without thinking, and without looking where she’s going, she finds herself back in her room, and only when she locks the door behind her and exhales does she realizes she had been panting.

Once she puts her hand to her cheek she feels wetness and has to conclude that she had also been crying.

Still, there is a glimmer of hope in the darkness, as she apparently has developed the subconscious skill of being able to navigate Garreg Mach if she’s not at all thinking or looking where she’s going.

With a grunt she lands on her bed and spends a good time expression all the frustration she feels which she cannot put into words against her pillow. Either with her face pushed into it while passionately uttering obscenities, or with her fists, until she feels sorry for her pillow.

Once some of her pent up frustration is gone she rolls onto her back with a satisfying groan and stares at the ceiling.

Goddess, why does she insist of having to make such a mess of herself in front of the Archbishop.

The woman does really drive her mad yes, but not all of that is her fault. It’s not Rhea who put her Crest inside Edelgard, after all.

And she really should try to keep the atmosphere between them more amicable, as whatever it is between them, it will surely continue to last for quite some time.

But it just comes with so many emotions which she cannot push aside, cannot control, when faced with Rhea, who seems equally emotional at times, even though she might not realize that herself.

Without a conscious thought she hooks the necklace with her index finger out from under her uniform and clasps her hand around it.

The waves of warm comfort and peace ebbing through her are almost instantaneous and she feels the tension in her muscles drain from her body. Soon she gets that strong urge to huddle in her blankets and doze off for as long as her body lets her, which is exactly what she decides to do.

It occurs to her she adjusted the ring’s effects without a conscious effort, having called forth the more soothing effects without even knowing it.

Once again she falls asleep, her breathing slowing down and her body relaxing, comforted by the ring in her hand.

* * *

The next day she begrudgingly decides to follow Lady Rhea’s advice. …Some of it, at least.

But the woman might have had a point when she said Edelgard should try to socialize, something which she hasn’t been all that good in for the past several years. But with Claude gone, and likely someone who will be gone quite often, and Mercedes truly being a devoted nun who, despite her genuine kindness, is not someone Edelgard can connect with easily she’s left… with herself mostly.

She finds herself sitting in the dining hall throughout breakfast and quickly concludes she has no idea how to make friends. Everyone she sees seems to be comfortable in the company they are already in, draining Edelgard of any courage to approach them and introduce herself.

What would she even talk about?

The Faith? No, that has proven not to be a way for Edelgard to efficiently make friends.

Surely many people are here for other reasons than the Goddess? Garreg Mach might be a Monastery but it’s also a prestigious academy and political stronghold, and while Edelgard is sure the Faith is woven into those aspects of it as well, it does make it plausible that many people who live here –students, faculty, teachers, clerks, and the like- are here for another primary reason than religion. Many of the courses given to students are almost completely unrelated to the Goddess, as much as such a thing is possible with a Goddess which is incorporated in nearly everything there is in Fodlan.

She lets her eyes wander and occasionally they fall on people who pique her interest, because of how they look and hold themselves, the way they behave and small things which simply leave her curious. But they all feel unapproachable to Edelgard, at least for now, as they’re all in the middle of something and in the company of their friends or colleagues. Still, she’s confident that she’ll end up working with and alongside many different people, and that should be a suitable opening for her to introduce herself and talk a little. 

She can wait for that. She’s patient. For now she’ll simply stick to observing.

That is until a young man catches her eye, and his appearance alone is enough for Edelgard to promptly decide she can stop observing as she has found her first target.

The man has an aura of ‘do not approach me’ clinging to him, which makes Edelgard very keen on approaching him. His expression is stuck in a permanent subtle scowl, with narrowed eyes and thin lips, telling everyone around him silently he’s already displeased by the fact they have managed to observe him. Despite him wearing the same uniform as herself –minus the top half, which is the men’s version on him- he manages to look almost comically menacing with his black hair too long to be considered conventionally handsome. Half of it covers one of his eyes for the Goddess’s sake.

Edelgard is sure he’s doing it on purpose, another attempt to keep people away.

So she briskly makes her way towards the man, whom she now considers the only person at Garreg Mach who feels more out of place than Edelgard, and who also clearly wants to be here even less than Edelgard wants to.

Once the man catches her approaching him he stills and momentarily looks unsure as to what he should do. There is no doubt she’s walking towards _him_ as her eyes are purposely trained on his own.

His mask of indifference and dislike cracks and Edelgard can see a hint of insecurity through it.

“Well, aren’t you looking all happy and excited to be here,” she says airily with a look of mischief on her face which will hopefully ebb away any tension this mysterious guy is feeling.

He cocks his head and with narrowed eyes he takes her in. “Are you trying to insult or compliment me?” he asks, a hint of malice subtly hidden in his voice.

Edelgard puts a finger to her lips. “Hmm, it depends, does my opening line work better as an insult or a compliment for you?”

To her surprise and relief she sees the hint of a grin appear on the stranger’s face. “From most people I would consider it an insult, and a tedious, dreadful one I do not wish to bother myself.” He pauses and once again he looks her over, before his eyes, now willingly, find hers. “But from you I think I might consider it a compliment, as you went through all the effort of sounding sarcastic just for me.”

“I appreciate you acknowledged my effort, it was no small feat. Hmm, may I ask for your name?”

The stranger tenses up right away and Edelgard is afraid she might have been too direct. “What do you want to know my name for?” he asks warily.

“So I know what to call you,” Edelgard explains, purposely sounding a little slow and gentle.

It works as he looks more riled up now. “I get that,” he scoffs. “You approach me out of nowhere and ask for my name, I suppose the proper question would be ‘what do you want from me?”

“I want to be your friend,” is all Edelgard says.

The stranger’s eyes widen in disbelief and he seems almost startled. Several emotions flicker through his eyes, along with several questions. Yet in the end all he asks her is “Why?”

“I could explain you the innate complexities of human interactions and the mutual benefits of a close friendship, but honestly it basically comes down to that I feel terribly out of place here. I might just be the worst nun-to-be to have ever graced these holy grounds and I really, _really_ want an ally in this small strange world where I don’t belong.” Her tone had been amused so far but the last bit she says much softer, and she feels much more vulnerable too. “I was hoping you too might be looking for such an ally, which I think might be a good basis for a friendship.” She’s all but mumbling the last words as she averts her gaze, feeling too exposed and afraid to keep looking.

Goddess what if he says no, or laughs at her? Or what if he thought she was flirting with him? That wasn’t on her mind at all, and flirting, or any form of romance is strictly prohibited across all five monasteries. He might just go the extra mile and report her for illicit behavior. Oh Goddess, Rhea will have a field day if she catches wind of Edelgard supposedly having been caught flirting.

Just when her thoughts are causing her feelings to become a mess she catches a hand being lifted upwards, towards _her._

When she looks up she realizes the stranger has outstretched his hand to her in greeting, still looking wary but with a newly added softness that looks odd but not unpleasant on him.

“Hubert,” he says curtly. Edelgard feels her confidence swell again when she notices the way his eyes flicker away for a moment and he looks almost shy.

Quickly she grasps his extended hand with her own and shakes his hand. “Edelgard,” she responds.

They both smile and while they are conveying the same the emotion, the two of them have a very different way of expressing that.

When they let go of one another’s hands a silence falls over them, which immediately serves to make Hubert feel awkward.

So Edelgard decides to be straightforward. “Would you care for a walk? I feel we have a lot of catching up to do.” she offers before she grins. “And I’m curious as to how you ended up here, of all places.” When Hubert stiffens slightly she hurriedly adds, “Please, share only things with me that you wish to share, and all on your own time. For now just share whatever comes to your mind. Hell, you could try telling me some of the most outrageous things about you, as I’m confident I will delight in hearing them.”

At that Hubert relaxes again. “Alright, I will take your offer for a walk then. This odd friendship offer of yours seems to have potential,” he tells her with just a flicker of genuine kindness. “Do you know the way around here? It is only my second day since I arrived and this place is a maze,” he says, the distaste palpable in his voice.

“Not at all,” Edelgard laughs. “I keep getting lost.”

Hubert makes a sour expression. “Oh…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disappoint you. Not this soon into our budding friendship at least,” she smiles apologetically. “But perhaps we could get lost together, haunt the Monastery for a while.”

At that Hubert perks up. “There, proof of that potential I mentioned already. Yes, let’s get lost,” he nods.

And with that the both of them are off, walking through endless halls, chambers, corridors and ending up in all kinds of odd and interesting place, idly chatting all the while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if Edelgard is giving Rhea a harder time or if it's the opposite, but either way they're having fun!
> 
> Along with Claude who is probably hanging upside down from a wyvern next to the windows of Rhea's chambers to eavesdrop on them.


	9. Hubert

Once Hubert tags along with her into the depths of Garreg Mach they are, as expected, quickly lost.

“You really weren’t joking when you said you don’t know your way around here,” Hubert says subtly.

“Well, it’s not that bad…” Edelgard tries saving herself.

“We passed this corridor twice before.”

Edelgard halts her step and looks around, yet nothing looks familiar to her. “What, really? How can you even tell? Everything looks the same.”

Hubert casually points at a wall. “There is damage on that wall, done purposely by a human, but a very long time ago. Also the carpet is worn in several distinct places.”

After taking a close look at the places Hubert pointed out Edelgard does indeed see faint markings that make this hallway stand out a little from the rest. “You are very observant,” she mutters, slightly embarrassed she has apparently been walking around without paying any attention to her surroundings.

Hubert merely shrugs, not at all disappointed in Edelgard’s lack of attention. “It comes with the territory, I suppose.”

“What territory?”

Her new friend visibly tenses and averts his gaze.

“Oh, you don’t have to share if it’s private,” she hurriedly adds.

Hubert gazes at her and tentatively takes in her sight for a moment. “I’m not in the habit of divulging much about my personal habits, no,” he admits. “Especially not to someone I just met and of whom I cannot be sure if I can trust.”

Edelgard nods. “That’s understandable.”

Friendship takes time to establish after all, even if you more or less formally declared it.

“But I could share a little,” Hubert says. “You seem trustworthy, it would be a good way to test if my assumption is right,” he grins.

Edelgard responds with a smile and a little bow. “I am honored. Do share, please.”

“It’s part of the reason I’m here, actually,” Hubert reveals tentatively. “Well, the unofficial reason, at least,” he mutters under his breath.

“The unofficial already sounds more interesting than the official one,” Edelgard says happily as she leans against the wall. They’re in a place devoid of life, especially at this hour, so they might as well discuss things here.

Huber responds with a smile of his own and leans against the wall opposite of Edelgard. “Tell me, how much do you know about dark magic?” he ask with a glint in his eyes.

“Oh, not a thing,” Edelgard laughs. “I am terribly lacking in my knowledge when it comes to any kind of magic. But what I know of dark magic is that it’s very forbidden, and the knowledge of how to learn it is even more forbidden.”

“Precisely,” Hubert says and he looks visibly proud. “That’s all you need to know, really.”

“Ah, and let me guess, you know much, _much_ more about this subject than I do.”

“Hmm,” comes the noncommittal response. “That was what upset my dearest father,” he says dryly.

“He’s not a fan of your interests, I take?”

“None of them,” Hubert says bluntly and for a moment he looks tense. “But what he likes even less is his name getting caught up in a scandal, so before I could… deepen my interests, so to speak, he send me to what he thinks is the one place that will prevent me from doing so, the home of our gracious Goddess of light and her most strict Child.”

Edelgard snorts. “That’s a lovely way of describing things.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I got that much,” Edelgard laughs, finding herself genuinely enjoying the subtle way Hubert is revealing things about himself, and his rather unorthodox views on the Goddess. It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t immediately bask in the delight of all that is divine. “So what is your opinion on dark magic, then?”

“It has a reputation far worse than it deserves,” Hubert tells her with vigor. “Sure, you could do terrible things with it if you wanted, but you can with most types of magic. Those with green Crests that can see and control people’s blood flow can cause mass death if they practiced hard enough, and yet we like them because it can also be used for healing.”

“Hmm, and we can’t have that now, can we.”

“No, indeed. But the Church has forbidden dark magic solely because it came to be associated with evil over the past centuries.” He gives Edelgard a displeased look. “It’s unfair,” he says and it almost sounds like he’s whining.

“I see. They are a bit strict on everything that smells vaguely like ‘sin’ yes,” Edelgard agrees.

“Exactly,” Hubert says with passion, clearly happy Edelgard is seeing things from his point of view.

“What sparked your interest in it though? I can’t imagine you just stumbled on forbidden magic one day.”

Hubert shrugs. “Happenstance, really. My Crest just happens to excel in dark magic, which I accidentally discovered one day when I summoned in panic it when I was startled by a spooked horse. I got curious and realized using it just felt natural to me. I simply really like it, I have no evil intentions in wanting to learn it.”

“Will your father’s attempt at thwarting your desire to walk the path of darkness and become an evil mage work, though?” Edelgard half jokes.

This time Hubert laughs, and it’s one that’s much louder than Edelgard would expect from the normally so quiet and subtle boy. “No, not at all.”

He flashes her a knowing look. “He knows as much about dark magic as you do, which is almost amusing in its irony, really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dark and light magic are very similar, yet also the opposite.” Hubert considers his words for a moment. “Like two sides of a coin,” he explains. “And if one learns light magic it would be akin to working your way up in a spiral, and when one learns dark magic it would be a downwards spiral instead.”

He gets an almost gleeful expression, which looks so menacing Edelgard struggles to refrain from laughing again. “Which means that the better I get at light magic, the easier it will be to understand dark magic, all I have to do is copy what I learned from light magic and do it… uh, the opposite way for dark magic, that is the best way I can word it.”

Edelgard stifles a laugh. “Well, did your dad send you to the perfect place to practice light magic and become pure and cleansed of sin.”

“Hence why you are standing in front of a proud monk in training,” Hubert says as he does a little bow.

“You scoundrel,” Edelgard smirks. “I can imagine your father wanting to keep your secret forbidden endeavors from reaching the public though.”

“Oh yes, and not just those pertaining to dark magic. He despises all my ‘secret forbidden endeavors’, which is the official reason I’m here, as dear papa couldn’t really find a good way to tell the Archbishop that he wished to send a son to her monastery as punishment for researching dark magic. She would not have been pleased.”

“She would have been rather miffed yes,” Edelgard agrees, and it dawns on her she has a deeper understanding of Rhea than she even really knew. “What is your official reason then? If that’s not too personal.”

Once more Hubert looks terribly proud of himself. “Considered unmarriageable,” he says, and it’s almost as if he’s boasting. “For being caught sleeping with the son of the prime minister of Adrestia.

“No way,” Edelgard blurts out. “Me too!” she adds enthusiastically.

She gets a confused and slightly perturbed look in response. “You… slept with the son of the prime minister as well?” he asks, sounding worried.

Edelgard realizes her mistake. “Oh no. No, not that,” she corrects herself. “The official reason I was send here is because I’m declared unmarriageable as well, and for sleeping with another woman.”

Hubert looks visibly relieved. “That’s indeed quite similar to my reason then, yes.”

“It’s really a coincidence,” Edelgard agrees, feeling oddly happy about it. “But it’s also just the official reason, I come with a long list of disasters leading up to that. Perhaps it was more the last straw.”

“I’m sure that I would be genuinely impressed by your long list of disasters,” Hubert says with a serious nod. “Do tell me some of them soon if you wish.”

“Oh, you bet I will,” Edelgard says happily. “But anyway, high five for being the same social disaster!” she exclaims and steps over to Hubert with her hand raised expectantly.

Hubert, who looks at her hand with worry and confusion, before realizing what she means for him to do.

…And proceeds to give her the weakest and most pitiful high five in recorded history. It’s more of a gentle and reluctant brush against her hand than anything, really.

The both of them stare at each other for s few seconds in awkward silence, with Hubert looking progressively tense and unsure of himself.

“Right,” Edelgard laughs. “We’ll have to work on our sync, it seems.”

Her joke rids Hubert of his awkwardness and she gets a nod and a small smile in return.

“Would you like to accompany me to my room? I think it’s almost time for curfew and I can make tea in my room.” If she doesn’t ignite the fire and kettle this time.

“I’d like that, although I don’t think men and women are supposed to be in each other’s rooms after curfew.” He doesn’t make it sound like that is an issue to him.

“All the more reason to do it,” Edelgard grins.

Hubert gives her a proud smile. “Silent rebellion, I approve.”

And with that they make their way back through the maze, which is much less of a maze now that she has Hubert by her side, who follows a line of subtle differences in the hallways.

“The woman you slept with,” Hubert says tentatively. “Did you, you know… love her?” he wonders quietly.

The thought is unexpectantly embarrassing for Edelgard. “No, not at all. I mean, she was nice and I liked her, but no, it definitely wasn’t love.” She awkwardly twirls her hair around her finger. “I think I just did it to see if I could, and perhaps another form of rebellion,” she muses with a smile.

“One again, something to be admired.” Hubert lowers his voice and says the rest in a dark whisper. “All these rules the Church imposes on us are so unnecessary limiting, wouldn’t you agree?”

Edelgard finds his menacing demeanor kind of endearing, as it’s rather obvious he’s exaggerating the act just a little bit. “Hubert dear, that’s heresy,” she exclaims with a laugh. “Careful now, you wouldn’t want all these beings of light to catch wind of your evil ways.”

Hubert wrinkles his nose and makes a sour expression. “You’re right, I wouldn’t want the Archbishop or one of her lackeys to hear of this.”

“Lackeys? Oh please, it’s not as if the walls have ears,” Edelgard shrugs off his comment with a laugh.

She thinks of Claude.

She thinks the walls do might have ears after all.

“Never mind, the Archbishop might be an idiot but I’m sure a lot of information makes it to her one way or another,” she says as she suppresses a shiver.

“You say that while you call the Archbishop an idiot in the same breath,” Hubert says. “I don’t know whenever to call you brave or foolish.”

“Oh, she already knows what I think of her. We got a little acquainted over the past week or so. Solely against my will, may I add,” Edelgard mutters with a quiet groan.

“I take pity on your plight,” Hubert says solemnly. “What caused such an unfortunate tragedy to befall you?”

Now Edelgard flashes him a menacing grin. “I could tell you, but I think she’s legally allowed to dispose of the both of us if I do.”

Hubert pales, as much as that’s possible for him. “Then by all means, keep it to yourself.”

“Mhm, I’ll ask her though. If I can tell you.”

With widened eyes Hubert looks at her. “You are just… casually going to saunter into Lady Rhea’s private office and ask her if you can share some kind of dark secret with me?” he states flatly and with disbelief. “Are you buddies with the least approachable woman in all of Fodlan or something?”

It dawns on Edelgard she does indeed have a closer connection with the Saint than most other people have, albeit one neither of them asked for. Still, she can more or less speak her mind to the woman, who is treated with deep respect and reverence by everyone else, and likely rarely has someone fuming angrily at her like Edelgard has done… several times now.

She wonders why Lady Rhea lets her get away with it.

“My lips are sealed, but she tends to find me, even if I wish she wouldn’t,” she says darkly. “And I have in fact sauntered into her office before, yes.” She fails to hide the pride she feels at saying that.

“I see I was right to accept your offer of friendship, you keep impressing me at every turn.”

“And I see I was right to pick you as my victim,” Edelgard smirks. “Because so far you are the first person I’ve ever met who is impressed by all of my heresy.”

“I do like heresy,” Hubert nods, looking pleased.

“Mhm, I figured as much. Speaking of heresy though, we’ve made it to my room,” Edelgard says casually as she opens the door to her room and enters.

Hubert remains hovering awkwardly in front of her door.

“Do I need to invite you in like a vampire, or are vampires not part of dark magic?” Edelgard tells him teasingly.

She gets a foul expression as a reward. “Vampires are nothing but folktales,” Hubert tells her firmly, and slightly offended that she’d dare to suggest a simple folktale is part of his passion that is dark magic. Then he flusters a little. “My apologies, I’ve been raised… very strictly, especially when it came to women. I have never even been in a lady’s bedroom before,” he says and he sounds almost shy while admitting it.

“Well it’s a good thing I invited you in as a friend, and not as a lady then,” Edelgard smiles as she grabs his hand and drags him inside. “I just want tea, idiot. My bedroom isn’t a danger zone.”

With his pride clearly hurt but also with his conscious soothed Hubert briskly steps inside and takes a look around her room.

“Seems safe,” he mutters before his eyes linger on something. “You have dead insects hanging on your wall,” he states stoically.

“Indeed I do.”

She gets a suspicious look. “I knew women were weird.”

“No, that’s just me. My mother collected them when I was a child,” Edelgard shrugs as she prepares the tea.

“That just sounds like two weird women to me,” Hubert jokes dryly.

“If you think that’s weird then I feel sorry for all the things you have yet to learn about women,” Edelgard retorts without looking away from the kettle, which she really should just ignite the fire underneath already. “Hold up, I have to focus on this.”

“…You have to focus to get a kettle going?”

“ _Shhh.”_

She was apparently not focused enough on the kettle as a moment later the entire kettle is engulfed in flames and she is in-between panicking and trying to remember years of discipline and training to dial back her magic.

“Fuck,” she utters as she strains to control her magic.

It works, and after a few seconds the fire is reduced to a slight flame underneath the kettle.

“Alright, I get it now,” Hubert says without a hint of emotion in his voice. “You were lying when you said your bedroom wasn’t a danger zone.”

Edelgard scoffs. “It’s not my room, my Crests just don’t work properly,” she reveals awkwardly, suddenly worried what Hubert will think of her.

“Crests?” Huber echoes.

Oh, right. She forgot that bit. “Yes, I have two,” she murmurs awkwardly.

Hubert gazes at her intently and suddenly something seems to occur to him. “Are you from Enbarr?”

“Yes?” Edelgard nods as she looks at him questioningly.

“Pardon my forwardness but with your white hair… well, when I was a child there was an urban legend at my school, a story of a girl with white hair who was cursed by the Goddess to have two blackened Crests but no soul, and so she harvested the souls of dead insects to consume them. …That wouldn’t happen to have been about you, right?” Hubert rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, that sounds really rude now that I hear myself say it.”

Edelgard must have stared at him blankly for a good few seconds as she tried to process what she just heard, before breaking into a laugh. “Oh Heavens, there were rumors like that about me?” She shakes her head as she struggles to stop laughing. “All of those things have been said about me separately, yes. Except for the part where I consumed the souls of dead insects, that one is new to me, and frankly really pulled from its original context,” she complains with a grin. “I can’t believe I was an urban legend though, almost makes me proud.”

“You should be,” Hubert tells her vigorously. “You were like a childhood hero to me. I used to imagine becoming friends with you.”

That’s… oddly endearing.

“Well I hope you aren’t disappointed then, now that you have befriended your childhood hero and have learned she’s very much human.”

Hubert shakes his head. “On the contrary. No one really wants to meet their heroes, they want to keep them far away and on a pedestal to marvel at, lest they learn their idol is indeed very human and flawed. And I had long since let go of my childish beliefs anyway, but now that I’ve met you I can say with confidence I prefer you as a human instead of my elusive childhood hero.”

Edelgard feels herself choke up a little. “That’s… very nice to hear,” she says softly. In a way it feels as if Hubert easily looks past all the things that had always followed her wherever she went and just sees _her_. For all the menacing flair he seemed so insisted on to keep around him he is surprisingly kind. Or perhaps he’s simply so weird he doesn’t even notice all the odd things about her.

“So you’re from Enbarr too?” she asks, unsure how to respond in a better way to his kind description of her.

“Yes, I grew up in there,” he confirms.

Edelgard chuckles. “Heh, another coincidence. I suppose it makes a little more sense you heard about me then.” She turns around to face Hubert, who is still standing in the middle of her room looking slightly out of place, much to her secret amusement. “What kind of tea do you want?” she asks.

“I don’t really have a preference, anything black is fine.”

“Who would have expected that, what a surprise,” Edelgard laughs as she picks a flavor.

“…With sugar please.”

“Ahw, he has a soft side after all,” she coos.

She can’t stop herself from chuckling when he makes an offended noise behind her. “Also, _sit_ Hubert, there is a perfectly fine chair by my desk,” she adds as she’s pouring the tea in the cups.

“But where will you sit?” comes the uncertain response. Her room is small and only comes with one chair, as it’s meant for one person. “My bed,” she shrugs.

“I couldn’t possibly take your only chair, that would be terribly ru-”

“Hubert I am _not_ drinking tea with you while you’re standing in the middle of my room,” she interrupts him sternly. “ _Sit.”_

He awkwardly makes his way over to her chair and sits down just as she finishes putting in sugar in his tea and takes both cups with her, placing one on the desk next to him and the other on her nightstand.

She crawls on her bed, leaning back against the wall and crossing her legs when a thought suddenly occurs to her. “Wait, if you’re from Enbarr and you say you slept with the son of the prime minister… please don’t tell me you mean _Ferdinand,”_ she blurts out, failing from sounding distasteful when she says the name.

Hubert immediately pales. “You know him?” he squeaks almost fearfully.

Feeling slightly guilty for guessing right, which Hubert apparently really wasn’t expecting, Edelgard hastily tries to explain herself. “Well, my father is the grandson of the Emperor, so he took me to some parties or other gatherings at the palace occasionally and because Ferdinand and I were close in age and among the group of young people who really had no business being there we had to resort to each other’s company from time to time.”

“Ah, I see,” Hubert murmurs stiffly.

Edelgard can’t help herself. “But really… _him?”_ she says with too much blunt disbelief to be considered polite.

At that Hubert relaxes a little and smirks. “Tell me honestly, what did you think of him?”

For a moment Edelgard is in doubt if she should really be honest, but Hubert seems to be the kind of person who values honesty over sparing someone’s feelings. “I couldn’t stand him,” she says unceremoniously. “I mean, he wasn’t a bad person or anything but he just always got on my nerves.”

She groans when she remembers… just Ferdinand in general. “Once I mentioned I happened to know how the inner workings of the palace’s politics were conducted, just because my father would often talk about it to me, and he promptly decided he had to prove to me he was better at it and declared me one of his rivals.” She peers over at Hubert, who is looking at her intently. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you, I meant it when I say I don’t consider him a bad person, he’s just… a lot.”

To her relief Hubert breaks into laughter. “Don’t worry, no offense taken. He gets on everyone’s nerves, even mine.” He gets a small smile on his face. “That’s why I like him, really. And in all honestly, the fact he managed to get on your nerves as well is impressive enough it makes me like him even more.”

Edelgard can’t help but smile along, perhaps she underestimated the depths of Ferdinand a little if Hubert of all people seems so fond of him. She recalls his earlier question to her and can’t help but ask the same.

“Do you love him?”

At once Hubert has his dramatic flair full on display again. “Edelgard, dear,” he says with an air of smugness. “Frankly I’m disappointed, you should know that a being shrouded in darkness such as I has no need for love, and especially not for something so… light as Ferdinand.” He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes while giving her a condescending smile for good measure.

His attitude falters a little when Edelgard snorts. “I’d be somewhat convinced were it not for the fact that earlier a certain someone gave me a very poetic and symbolic description of how light and dark are like two sides of the same coin,” she says pointedly and stares him down just as hard.

Hubert stiffens and takes her in with a calculated expression on his face before he softens a little. “Well then,” he sighs. “Out of all the secrets you have come to learn about me I implore you that this one is the most important one you keep.”

When Edelgard nods vigorously he speaks up again. “It’s not my own reputation I care about, that has been in shambles for years now, and I kind of enjoy it that way, but Ferdinand wants to succeed his father as prime minister one day, he truly believes he can do a much better job at it than him.” He shifts in his chair. “If this were to leak out his chance to get that position would almost certainly be void. He has other siblings eyeing the position, along with various nobles, and I just cannot be the reason his future would be taken from him.”

He seems deeply serious about this, even afraid, and Edelgard feels she can’t really grasp just how complex his situation must be. “That sounds… incredibly difficult for you.” She might have really underestimated Ferdinand, then. And perhaps took his strange attempt at besting her in politics the wrong way, if he’s really that intent on becoming prime minister one day.

Hubert gives her a stiff nod. “My father kept it under wraps when he found out of course, even hid from Ferdinand’s father, but it was the last incitement he needed to send me here. So I couldn’t ruin our family’s reputation any further. He cares a lot about that, and he would dread a scandal tainting our _virtuous_ and noble name,” he sneers.

“What’s your family name?”

“Von Vestra.”

“Oh,” Edelgard utters wryly. “Yes, I get it then. My father occasionally spoke of yours. He considered your father… difficult to argue with, about anything really. He would not budge on any matter he had taken a stance in. My father seemed a little frustrated as a he struggled with how to deal with yours.”

“That’s a nice way of describing my father,” Hubert grins. “But to put things into perspective, if me dabbling in dark magic is considered a sin, then my father is a far greater sinner than I ever could be.” He crinkles his nose and looks displeased. “It’s just that my father is very good at keeping his name squeaky clean and has gained a reputation for himself that makes him nearly untouchable.”

“Charming.”

Hubert smiles yet looks unhappy. “On the surface yes.”

“Unlike you,” Edelgard says. “Who has a surface that screams ‘shady’ but you’re actually kind of sweet underneath, aren’t you?”

Her companion flusters and focuses intently on drinking his tea. “I’m trying my best to hide that,” he mutters quietly.

“Try harder then, you’re not doing a very good job.”

She gets a playful glare. “I’m making a minor exception with you. Although, it seems I’m making a lot of exceptions with you.”

“I’m honored to be your minor exception.”

Hubert laughs. “Perhaps calling you a kindred spirit would be a more accurate way to describe it.”

“That sounds much nicer than a soulless insect consumer.”

“It does, but a lot less imposing.”

Edelgard shrugs. “I have other ways to be imposing.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

“There you go with the sweet compliments again,” Edelgard teases him as she takes a sip of her own tea.

This time Hubert doesn’t fluster and only gives her a small genuine smile in return. He finally seems to be a little more at ease with being alone with a woman in her sacred bedroom.

After taking another sip from his tea he glances at Edelgard carefully, a hesitant expression on his face and it’s clear he has something on his mind.

“What?” she asks him.

He remains silent for a little while longer, looking in doubt before he does speak up. “Pardon me if this is too personal,” he says reluctantly. “But after what you told me I can’t help but wonder if you are, you know… gay?”

Edelgard looks at him confusedly. “Gay?” she repeats questioningly. “What does that mean?”

Hubert stares at her blankly for a few long seconds before remembering he has to blink at some point. “No,” he utters in a strained voice. “You cannot possible tell me you slept with a woman… how many times?”

“Four.”

“ _Four._ You slept with a woman _four_ times and you mean to tell me you don’t know what being gay means,” he tells her with palpable disbelief in his voice.

“There is a word for a woman sleeping with another woman?” Edelgard wonders out loud. “That seems oddly specific.”

The very weary groan that comes from Hubert’s mouth tells her she’s clearly missing the point here.

“I... no. I’m not sure if I should be disappointed by your lack of knowledge on this or impressed that despite your lack of knowledge you were apparently stubborn enough to persevere and find a way to do something very gay anyway.”

He stares at her some more and she can’t help but give him a vaguely offended expression.

Hubert sighs. “It means you are attracted and fall in love with people of the same gender instead of, you know, the mandatory one.” He sighs again, this time in frustration. “I can’t believe you made me spell it out,” he mutters. “Under what rock have you been living until now?”

“Well I’m sorry no one bothered to tell me that is a thing,” Edelgard huffs in annoyance. “I’m sure they were too busy trying to keep me from committing other acts of heresy what with my Crests and hair and everything that they forgot to explain to me there is another sin I could commit if I felt so inclined.”

“Ah, right. I recognize that rock,” Hubert says with distaste. “The rock that is the Church.”

“Yes, they were very polite in pretending that I wasn’t a walking abomination already, they probably didn’t want to add fuel to the fire,” Edelgard agrees, despite still feeling somewhat attacked. “I mean in the end I did it anyway, but what’s even the point. It’s forbidden.”

“It’s not,” Hubert is quick to point out. “Marrying someone of your own gender is, since it’s a little hard to create the next litter of good little believers. But you can’t really prosecute someone for love, despite how much the Church would like to. All they can do is condemn it.”

“Oh.”

Hubert gazes at her, still looking rather surprised. “The thought really never crossed your mind at all?”

“I don’t know,” Edelgard exclaims. “I mean I knew it happened, I just never really thought it was a genuine option… or something.”

She feels very confused all of a sudden, and conflicted as well. Although she cannot begin to take apart exactly why.

“Well I’ll retract my question for now then,” Hubert says with slight amusement. “It can take quite some time to figure that out, and you have only just learned of the possibility… despite, and I cannot stress this enough, having slept with a woman four goddamn times already.”

“Thanks,” Edelgard mumbles awkwardly, not sure if she really wants to ‘figure this out’. “Are you then?” she asks him. “Uh… gay, I mean.” The whole word feels odd to say to her.

Hubert nods tentatively. “I think so yes. I mean I don’t really have any proof to compare it with, but the mere thought of being with a woman feels… weird. I can’t really explain it, but the thought just makes no sense in my head.”

“That sucks,” Edelgard says a little flatly, still very thrown off by this wild new information and unable to really think of a better response.

A downright evil smirk forms on Hubert’s lips. “You could word it that way, yes,” he says with amusement.

It takes Edelgard fairly long to get what he’s hinting at.

“Hubert, was that a sex joke?” she chides him with a stern glare.

“Oh no, I would never.” He doesn’t attempt to hide his glee.

“Ass.”

“I could make that into a sex joke too.”

Edelgard blinks in confusion. “I don’t get that one,” she says bemused.

Her friend tries not to choke on his tea. “Well, I am _not_ going to spell that one out for you, I’m afraid.”

She doesn’t like not being in the know and glares at him. “Tell me,” she whines.

“No.”

“Tell me,” she demands.

“No, figure it out yourself, you naïve little thing.”

She tries… and tries… and connects the dots… and gasps in shock. “Oh Goddess, that’s a _thing?!”_ she sputters.

Hubert downs his tea in one gulp. “Wow, would you look at time,” he says and quickly gets up from his chair. “It’s really time I’d take my leave.”

“You cannot just casually drop this bomb on me and then leave me with it,” Edelgard tells him with frustration. “How does that even work?”

“I’m not telling,” Hubert says with an air of finality as he heads for the door. “Thanks for the tea, Edelgard.” He gives her another menacing grin. “And enjoy spending the night agonizing over everything you just learned.”

“ _Hubert!”_ she yells after him but it’s in vain as the door closes behind him a moment later.

She spends a long good time alone with herself sitting in absolute silence as she fumes in anger and frustration. Eventually she decides she’s getting nowhere and that it’s indeed very late, so with a deep groan she get up and readies herself for bed.

When she’s in bed several minutes later she’s promptly angry with Hubert again because she’s doing exactly what he said she would, agonizing over her newfound knowledge.

She dismisses anything ass-related for now, the thought is just too weird for her to even think about, and focusses on the gay part.

Not that that’s any less weird.

If she’s honest with herself –which she’d admittedly rather not be- she should at least be a _little_ gay. After all she did sleep with a woman several times and enjoyed doing so.

Was that a thing? Being a little gay? She should ask Hubert.

At the time she thought it was because she enjoyed the feeling of being wanted for once, and maybe also the additional fact she was actually doing something the Church would condemn her for, rather than constantly being condemned for things she had no control over. It had felt freeing, in a way.

But then again maybe it had felt freeing because she was doing something that was more true to herself.

She tries to picture it. Actually being with a woman that she… loves. The very thought feels strange, but not unpleasant.

Perhaps if she thinks of kissing another woman, one she actually cared for, her feelings will make more sense. She pictures Dorothea and Petra, but the thought immediately feels very wrong to her. They were her friends, and she still has lingering hurt that their friendship broke the way it did. Not to mention the three of them were practically still children the last time they met.

Alright, so that doesn’t work.

She’s absentmindedly fiddling with the ring hanging around her neck and before she’s really aware of it she’s picturing herself kissing Rhea and oh _fuck_ that definitely does things to her. But if she really thinks about it it’s less because Rhea is a woman and more because she’s… _Rhea._

Rhea, the most insufferable representation of all that is divine and who constantly gets on her nerves. Edelgard would definitely enjoy kissing Rhea if it meant getting back at the other woman, especially if Rhea would be kissing her back.

Wouldn’t that make the Saint a nice heretic, she thinks to herself with glee. Yes, she would enjoy seeing Rhea all conflicted and agonizing over having kissed her.

So maybe she’s a little gay, or maybe she just really enjoys heresy.

* * *

The next day she’s very torn between constantly wanting to seek Hubert out and not wanting to overwhelm him with her presence, unsure of just how much time he enjoys spending with her, as he seems to be the type who enjoy being alone a lot.

In the end she lasts until shortly before dinner, when she spots him on a bench with his nose in a book and finally dares to approach him, after which he asks her to eat together. It’s pleasant and she feels more at ease, yet still doesn’t really dare ask him about just how much time he wants to spend with her. It feels forced.

Hubert answers her question the next morning by knocking on her door only minutes after she has gotten dressed and is contemplating whenever her hunger is bad enough for her to leave the safe confines of her room.

When she opens her door he stands there like he definitely should be there.

“You skipped breakfast yesterday,” he tells her bluntly.

“So?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t skip breakfast again,” he continues, sounding slightly stern.

“Excuse me?” she sputters.

“I’m inviting you to breakfast,” he explains plainly. “With me.”

“Oh… alright.”

And from that moment on they’re inseparable, because Hubert also invites her to lunch, and dinner, and tea in the evening, where they talk about everything that crosses their minds, a lot of which relates to their mutual lives in Enbarr.

Even when they aren’t eating or drinking tea they’re mostly together, and a lot of it is spent in silence. Hubert likes to read as much as she does so they spend some of their free hours hunched over books, choosing various different places around Garreg Mach to do so.

Over the days Edelgard dares to get a little more physically affectionate with him, something she finds she has sorely missed over the past years, and while Hubert reacts to it with confusion at first he doesn’t seem to mind at all and lets her hug and pat and lean against him whenever she wants. He even seems slightly comforted by it, as he apparently has taken the task upon himself to make sure Edelgard takes proper care of herself and is happy and safe, something which she would have objected against were it not for her amusement of his slightly intimidating way of expressing his care for her.

Their friendship doesn’t go unnoticed. While it’s not unheard of for a man and woman to be friends, they are supposed to maintain respectable behavior and the proper etiquette regarding one another, especially as nobles, and even more so as the fresh members of the Church they are.

That means that with the two of them being basically joined at the hip, spending time in each other’s room and doing the offensive act of _touching_ one another in public leads to rumors.

Rumors which Edelgard, and Hubert as well, find very entertaining.

“These rumors really do wonders for my social image,” Hubert says dryly after they catch two nuns whispering about them. “I’m sure my dearest father would be delighted to hear his son has been seen frolicking around with a woman. Maybe he’d even feel proud of me of once,” he says with irony dripping from his voice.

“Hmm, good for you. I on the other hand am slightly afraid Lady Rhea will personally hang me if she catches wind of this.”

Hubert shoots her a quizzical look. “She hardly approaches anyone personally, she wouldn’t actually come to you in person for something like this?” he wonders, sounding slightly unnerved.

“Oh, she would,” Edelgard says with certainty. “It has to do with the thing I can’t tell you about yet.”

“Of which I’m getting more and more curious.”

And indeed, Edelgard’s prediction of the future comes true just a day before their classes are to start officially.

They’re sitting on a bench in the afternoon sun, where Hubert is still intently reading a book on light magic, like the proper monk he’s trying so hard to be, while Edelgard lost her focus on her book some time ago and has closed it on her lap, opting to nap instead, with her head leaning on Hubert’s shoulder.

She’s vaguely aware the nice feeling of the warmth of the sun on her skin is suddenly gone, but she pays it no mind, being far too sleepy too care.

“Edelgard,” she hears coming quietly from beside her, Hubert’s voice sounding oddly high-pitched and frightened for his usual way of speaking.

“ _Edelgard,”_ he hisses again, now with full on dread in his voice. “Do _not_ make me go through this alone.”

Confused by his words and in the middle of waking up she’s assaulted by a very crude way of learning what Hubert meant by ‘this’.

“Miss von Hresvelg,” comes the sharp and _unfortunately,_ very familiar voice which promptly jolts her awake.

“Yes, boss lady,” she blurts out groggily as she opens her eyes and is greeted by the imposing stature of the Archbishop blocking out the sun.

Next to her Hubert stiffens and gasps faintly.

Lady Rhea narrows her eyes and looks at her very displeased. “I see you followed my advice and got yourself a friend,” she says thinly and glances over to Hubert, looking at him as if she’s only just noticing he’s an actual individual and not just one human out of millions of unfamiliar faces. “Mister von Vestra,” she adds almost as an afterthought.

He bows his head at her. “Lady Rhea,” he greets her hurriedly in return, looking very nervous while doing so.

It once again occurs to Edelgard just how respectfully and formally everyone addresses the Saint.

Everyone but her that is, Rhea has long since ruined her chances there. “What do you want?” she asks the Headmistress a little crudely.

Hubert stifles another gasp while Rhea looks even less pleased than before.

“While I’m glad you followed my advice and socialized with someone I feel you’ve gotten a little _too_ well acquainted.”

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean by that,” Edelgard says as innocently as possible, feigning ignorance.

She receives a glare in return. “There are _rumors_ about the two of you, rumors I do not wish to have in my monastery, and to which I hopefully don’t have to explain to you the nature of.”

Edelgard can’t help herself, Lady Rhea is darting around the topic too much for her to let this slide. “Rumors?” she says in mock surprise. “I had no idea. Please, do tell me the exact contents of these rumors down to the last detail, so I can tell if they are true or not.”

Much to her delight, and also mild dread, Rhea immediately flusters before she loses her composure and promptly snaps.

“My office, Miss von Hresvelg,” she orders with a sneer. “ _Now.”_

Edelgard briefly considers complaining about the unfairness of it being only her that has to go but she knows better than to drag her friend down with her, and she also knows Rhea is mostly pissed at her because it’s _her,_ and Rhea seems to take everything she does very personal.

Knowing she’s not really helping her case with it but still doing so anyway Edelgard gets up as lazily and nonchalantly as possible. “Lead the way, Headmistress.”

Rhea makes a displeased noise before abruptly turning around and briskly walking away, confident Edelgard will follow her.

Edelgard gives Hubert an apologetic smile, who in return looks at her with fear-struck eyes. “I’ll be fine,” she whispers to him before hurriedly running after the annoyed Saint.

She shouldn’t be so certain she will be fine, she was very rude to a holy woman just now, one who is very, _very_ powerful.

Still, somewhere deep down she is confident Rhea will once again let her get away with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hubert sauntering into the fic like "Sup, Archbishop, I'm queer, I'm here... to say fuck the Church, spread my heretic ways and turn innocent young maidens into homosexuals."  
> I'm vaguely inclined to drop the whole cool overarching plot I came up with and just have Edelgard and Hubert go Be gay, do crimes, while Rhea cries in the corner. (Because she wants to join)
> 
> I know you're all here for Rheagard shenanigans but Hubert is my guilty pleasure to write, and you can't deny he's doing wonders to speed things up.  
> I wasn't even sure how to write him but Edelgard did it for me and made him go "I have multiple secrets and not once talked informally to a female in my life but this quirky girl somehow lowered my guard and seems friend-shaped so now I have no choice but to share all of my life's secrets with her, rope her into my opinions of the Church and become her momfriendTM"
> 
> If you find Edelgard's lack of knowledge on homosexuality unrealistic, there have been so many people who had incredibly intimate relationships with people of their own gender, even sleeping with them, yet it never occurred to them that they were in love solely because the culture they lived in only said love was possible in marriage and between a man and woman and stuff, and they were never told their relationship was just as valid. You're really confined to the language and culture you grew up in.  
> Also someone said I sprinkle a little homophobia in my fics and mostly blame the church. I should explain I quite like religion in real life and only add cultural homophobia because I have a weakness for forbidden loveTM. Or rather, people overcoming the hurdles of falling in love with someone that isn't in the group of people they're allowed to fall in love with in their culture. I just like the drama of 'do I love her... but how is that possible.'


	10. On human matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pope gets her priviledge checked.

Their journey towards the Archbishop’s office is done in complete silence. The reason for this being Lady Rhea, who is walking at a pace fast enough that it makes people look after her as she goes, with Edelgard trailing behind her like some sort of dog, lightly struggling to keep up without outright having to break into awkward short sprints.

It would have irritated her, Rhea’s silent way of being rude, were it not for the fact she found it thoroughly amusing that the woman was failing to hide her own annoyance as she kept on walking with a speed Rhea would most definitely describe as ‘briskly’, Edelgard thinks to herself. She on the other hand would describe it more akin the likes of ‘very irked, in a hurry, nervously trying to hide it and failing to do so’. Something Edelgard is content with to amuse herself with until they finally made it into the depths of Garreg Mach and reached Rhea’s office.

Still, she was glad they finally made it there.

Which lasted for roughly two seconds and promptly faded when Rhea closed the door firmly behind them and all but ushered Edelgard into the office.

Once Edelgard finds herself standing in the middle of the spacious room, tense and feeling very out of her place, Rhea moves to stand behind her desk, placing her hands on it as she leans slightly over it. Likely in an attempt to look imposing, Edelgard thinks, and despite the fact she found it amusing, it was still also very much imposing.

Rhea stares at her with her face neutral, stoic even. Yet when Edelgard, who had opted to simply stare back and wait for Rhea to it get of her chest already, looks more closely she sees the hint of tension on the other woman’s face. Her eyes are narrowed slightly, her lips a little thinner and her jawline definitely looks tense.

Also she isn’t _saying anything,_ despite several long seconds already having passed.

Edelgard wonders if Rhea expects her to speak up first.

Well she might make an effort to make that more clear then.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, yet Edelgard still has no idea just exactly why she is here.

Rhea’s eyelid twitches.

That snapped something in Edelgard.

“Well?” she says innocently. “What is it you have to tell me?”

At once Rhea’s nostrils flare and she bristles. “What do I have to tell you?! What you have to tell _me,_ is why you are here.” She glares at Edelgard, who refuses to budge and eyes the Archbishop neutrally, almost unimpressed. This ticks her of even more, naturally. “So?” she utters. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she finishes and it sounds like an order.

Edelgard considers feigning ignorance once more, but instead thought of something else.  
  
“In all honesty I think I’m doing quite well as of late. I eat all three meals a day in the dining hall now, I talk to some of the nuns and monks here, I read a lot as I’m brushing up my knowledge of the history of our Faith and together with Hubert I feel-”

“Do _not_ play daft with me girl,” Rhea tells her sternly.

“Daft? You were the one who told me to socialize more, spend more time outside and make mealtimes, which I’m doing,” Edelgard retorts with her voice now slightly raised.

Rhea’s expression turns almost vindictive. “Oh, I would have been very much pleased about you suddenly emerging from your cocoon and becoming a social butterfly, were it not for all the _rumors_ that have been spreading about you and that boy, rumors of which you two aren’t giving even the slightest effort for to hide as I found you _right there_ sleeping on his shoulder,” she says in frustration and with thinly veiled displeasure.

Edelgard raises her eyebrows. “Have you verified any of these rumors, Lady Rhea?

“I just told you I saw you slee-”

“I mean the actual rumors, the things that they are saying behind our backs. I assume some were quite elicit?” Edelgard interrupts her casually, something which seems to briefly confuse the holy woman.

“Of course not, rumors can do far more damage than what actually happens behinds closed doors.” Comes the very brisk response.

“So?” Edelgard pipes up. “I’ve been followed by rumors all my life. If my new friendship with Hubert is also causing rumors they will be among thousands of others.”

“ _Friendship?”_ Rhea sneers. “Friendship,” she repeats to herself. “Have you seen how you behave around him? You hold his hand on occasion, embrace him, even spend time alone in your _bedroom_ with him. Those go far beyond the proper etiquette of how a man and woman should respectfully treat one another.”

Edelgard can’t help herself and laughs. “I’m sorry,” she smiles. “I suppose Hubert and I are close and maybe a little affectionate which could be seen as unorthodox, but I assure you I have no ill intentions with him, or illicit or whatever it is you want to call the things you don’t want us to do,” she explains the very irked Archbishop. “And neither does he with me for what matter,” she adds.

“I don’t believe you,” comes the curt response.

“What?” Edelgard blurts out flatly in disbelief.

“You are with him nearly all the time, practically sitting on his lap at times and then you go into one another’s rooms in the evening.” Rhea looks at her with carefully masked anger. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well that sounds like a you problem then,” Edelgard shrugs nonchalantly, yet cannot hide the mischief she’s feeling.

Rhea makes a very displeased noise. “A me problem?” she sputters. “You are responsible for your actions and its consequences, not me.”

“Yet it’s you who refuses to believe me, which makes it your problem.” Edelgard retorts, making Rhea look slightly flabbergasted. “But I’ll share you some of the illicit behavior Hubert and I are up to when we’re alone in my room,” she says with a grin.

Rhea pales and flusters at once and is visibly internally fighting with herself over her curiosity to know and her duty to keep Edelgard in line.

So Edelgard chooses for her.

“We drink tea… very illicitly, and during so we talk about our feelings, the contents of which are so illicit I think they might be forbidden to be spoken of when in the presence of the Archbishop,” she explains airily, grinning all the while.

It’s not even a lie either, as they have spoken of topics like sex and being gay, the former of which is only to be spoken of by a couple who is wedded, and the latter... not at all. And maybe also some minor hints from Hubert which are sort of blasphemy but that’s just a detail really.

But Rhea misses the truth in her words and takes it for mockery instead.

“Do not jest, you have no idea what is at stake.” The Archbishop slams her hands on her desk and with her whole body tense she glares at Edelgard, who now feels confusion as she seems to be missing something important once again.

She crosses her arms and tries to look more approachable. “Tell me then,” she mutters in a more open way, struggling not to avert her gaze. “What is at stake?”

Rhea peers down at her, once again reminding Edelgard that even without their notable height difference the Archbishop can be as imposing as she can make Edelgard feel small. “We scarcely know anything about how you came to have a part in your soul identical to mine, or just what powers and effects can stem from that,” she explains carefully. With her voice lowered she adds. “Your Crests… the way you were born, it might have been done deliberately, as an experiment or because they had great plans with you… or to try to use you as a way to harm or even kill me.”

Edelgard remains silent as her mind is racing. They’re only at the beginning of discovering what their connection means. …And now the Archbishop tells her the way she was born might have been done purposely, foul play by someone who wanted her to become… something. Something which they failed in apparently, as she as of yet still has to be approached by anyone who knew more about the circumstances of her birth, aside from Lady Rhea that is. Rhea… who she might have been be supposed to bring down if the stars had been aligned differently. The thought makes her shiver.

“I… that’s a lot to take in,” she mutters demurely. “Am I a danger to you? Because of what someone might have done to me?” she asks timidly, suddenly afraid Rhea will now see her as a threat.

Yet Rhea resolutely shakes her head. “No. Not yet at least. On the contrary, until we get to the bottom of this you are my responsibility, to keep safe and guard you from anyone who might learn of what happened between us. I will have _no one_ harm anyone who belongs to me,” she says deeply determined and with fire in her eyes.

Her words… do things to Edelgard. The idea that the Saint wants to protect her and keep her safe makes her feel warm from the inside. The part where she stated that she belongs to Rhea would normally have invoked her rebellious streak, as no one gets to own her, she wants control over herself, but under these circumstances it makes her feel… as _if_ she truly does belong to Rhea, if only in soul, and then only partly.

Still, the idea makes her mind reel and she feels herself fluster.

“If I belong to you then you better take good care of me,” she half stutters and half demands.

Unexpectedly Rhea breaks into a smile. “Well, I feel I’ve been keeping up my end of the bargain quite well, wouldn’t you say,” she says airily but then narrows her eyes and turns to look slightly displeased. “Unlike you, that is,” she adds accusingly.

Edelgard balks at the sudden verbal attack. “Excuse me? I wasn’t aware you were expecting things from me.”

“I am,” Rhea tells her softly and not very kindly. “If we discover more about this connection it might very well happen people with ill intentions will drag it into the light, or it might leak on its own.” She sighs and looks tired all of a sudden. “And we cannot rule out the possibility that we ourselves will have to announce it publicly, depending on what we learn and how things unfold. Perhaps not the truth, but a story such as that you are my protégé or something like that, so people will accept that a human is freely walking around with a Crest of a Saint.”

“Oh,” Edelgard chokes out weakly, suddenly confronted with just how much her Crest might rule her future from now on. Others might come to her with ill intentions, she might have to spend her life as some kind of vassal to a Saint, meaning she’ll definitely spend the majority of her waking life in monasteries or churches. “I don’t want that,” she says with a twinge of desperation. “I want to keep my freedom. …Or what remains of it at least.”

“As far as my knowledge goes, you didn’t bring this upon yourself so any punishment or consequences are undeserved, and so I don’t want all of this for you either,” Rhea says gently and sounding as if she’s deeply genuine. “So I will try my hardest to keep you out of the public eye as much as possible and keep as much of your freedom intact as I can, I promise.”

Edelgard sighs in relief, somehow completely convinced she can fully put her trust in this elusive holy woman.

“ _But,”_ Rhea continues, her voice now much more curt and displeased. “That means I expect the same from you, meaning I _won’t_ have you slander your own name, as it could potentially be tied to mine in the near future,” she tells Edelgard pointedly.

“Ah,” Edelgard says dryly, already knowing where this is going. “And let me guess, my supposedly ‘illicit’ behavior as of late isn’t doing any good to keep my name all pretty and shiny.”

“Precisely,” Rhea says with narrowed eyes, clearly pleased Edelgard is being accommodating for once. “So from now on I’ll expect you to behave to the proper etiquettes that come with your status of both being a noble and a nun and keep a respectable distance. I encourage reducing your interactions with the Vestra boy to a minimum or break it off altogether if you can.” She crinkles her nose in disgust. “That boy is no good, especially not for you. He has enough rumors pertaining to him alone I was already reluctant to even let him near my monastery so I sternly urge you to-”

“I refuse,” Edelgard interrupts her in a repressed snarl.

Rhea blinks at her in surprise.

“You… you refuse?”

“Yes, and how _dare_ you speak about my friend like that,” Edelgard growls.

“How dare _I?_ How dare _you_ practically writing on the walls that you’re sleeping with him!” Rhea snaps back in anger.

Something cracks in Edelgard and words flood from her mouth, fueled on emotion rather than thoughts. “I am _not_ fucking Hubert,” she drawls furiously.

Rhea promptly pales gasps in shock, and Edelgard promptly wonders when it was the last time the Saint heard that word being said in her presence. She doesn’t get to dwell on that long as at once Rhea outmatches Edelgard’s own anger.

“You _insolent,_ ill-behaved girl,” she hisses. “How dare you to say such filth to me? You do know I could easily punish you for such a transgression, right?”

Yet somewhere Edelgard once again believes Rhea will let it slide, or maybe it is naïve hope.

“I don’t care,” she retorts, her voice raised as much as Rhea’s. “You have _no_ right to speak of Hubert like that and to accuse us of all these rumors solely because _other_ people have been saying them about us.” She glares up at Rhea, who looks startled by her furious reaction.

“So get of your high horse Rhea,” Edelgard continues her rant, promptly forgetting to properly address the other woman. “Because despite you saying you’re doing everything in your power to keep me safe and protect me, so far it’s been _Hubert_ who has made my time here much less agonizing and lonesome. Because it’s _Hubert_ who takes me to eat with him, who talks with me about my worries, who confides in me and just… is _there,_ for me.” Her glare turns more accusing. “Unlike _you_ , who seems to decide on a whim what is good for me and then insist on forcing that upon me. You don’t explain anything to me. You don’t even _listen_ to me so you have no right to tell me what to do.”

The whole time she was pouring her frustrations out she had completely forgotten just who she was talking, but now that her thoughts are coming back to her and realizes what she just said, Edelgard fears she’s going to spend a nice long time in some secret prison underneath Garreg Mach, safely away from everything else until Rhea can get to the bottom of their Crest problem.

“I’m sorry,” comes the very quiet but filled with shame voice of the Archbishop. “You’re right… I say I want to protect your freedom yet it’s me who has been controlling you,” she mutters feebly with no trace of her anger left in her. She looks so… defeated.

Edelgard is stunned to silence and is all but gawking at the Saint, who just _apologized_ after Edelgard insulted her in a very angry and emotional rant.

“It’s just that… it frustrates me, to see you dart around the monastery merrily with someone else while I am to remain in the distance and unable to… to be there for you, as you put it. It should be _my_ responsibility,” she says unhappily and displeased with herself.

“Are you jealous, Archbishop?” Edelgard teases her without much thought, because jokes are far more easy to come up with than anything serious right now.

Rhea looks at her in contemplation for a moment before responding. “No,” she says and shakes her head lightly. “I mean… I don’t think so, at least?” she questions unsure of herself, making Edelgard’s heart skip a beat for various reasons that distort so much she can’t name a single one. “I’m just frustrated I think,” the Saint guesses awkwardly. “I find myself at a loss on what to do and all of this makes me feel so powerless.” She gives Edelgard a weak smile. “I haven’t felt powerless in a very long time,” she admits with embarrassment.

“Hmm, so instead of talking to me about our predicament you tried to feel less powerless by extracting power over me,” Edelgard muses, yet she can’t suppress smiling, almost reassuringly so, at Rhea as the woman seems to be feeling genuinely bad about everything, in her own Saintly way.

Rhea tilts her head slightly and gives Edelgard a quizzical expression. “Well I had to tell you what to do now, didn’t I?” she says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

That’s not a very nice thing to say, Edelgard feels. “But you just admitted you don’t know what to do yourself,” she points out.

Rhea doesn’t seem to think I an issue whatsoever. “I mean, yes? But surely I know better how you should behave than you do.”

“No.”

“… _No?”_

Edelgard groans in frustration and has to take a deep breath to keep herself from saying something unkind again in defense. “No, how about you try and trust me instead? You know, just for politeness’s sake.”

Much to her aggravation Rhea _chuckles_ and looks at her with a mixture of both endearment and amusement, not unlike how one would look at a puppy which is trying and failing to catch its own tail. _It’s cute you think that’s an option._ The thought it’s practically written on the Saint’s face.

The absolutely condescending little _bit-_

No, this is woman just genuinely lives every day of her life under the firm belief she is the embodiment of wisdom and humanity cannot ever hope to match her.

…Despite quite clearly not at all knowing what to do and being caught unaware fairly often.

That must be somewhat pressuring and anxiety inducing for this obviously emotional woman, not to mention _lonely._

“I mean it, trust me,” Edelgard repeats more fiercely, which causes Rhea’s eyes to widen slightly in surprise. “At least trust _me_ instead of rumors about me. Trust what I tell you rather than what others tell you about me.”

Rhea seems to be taken aback by her words, or maybe just the entire concept of _trusting a human,_ as she looks at Edelgard uncertainly. “But what if you’re wrong?” she asks with confusion.

“What if they are? What if _you_ are?”

Rhea purses her lips as she turns to look displeased. “I think I really ought to know more about this than you-”

“Well, you don’t. You’re just as in the dark as it about I am so how about we try to work together to get through this instead of you pestering me to keep me in line because we will just be in each other’s hair all the time if you keep that up,” Edelgard tells the Archbishop with crossed arms and trying really hard to keep herself from sounding like she’s lecturing the other woman.

She gets another confused look. “How would that work?”

Edelgard suppresses a sigh. “Confide in me, if you can find it in yourself to share your thoughts with me,” she says, with the last part not _entirely_ sarcastic.

Something akin to relief washes over the Saint, and it’s an odd look on her. She almost looks human, or just a little less untouchable and more fragile.

“Confide in you,” she murmurs softly and then nods softly. “Alright… I can try to do that.” At once her vulnerability is gone and she once again looks at Edelgard with the all-knowing eyes of a Saint. “You probably are in need of reassurance and guidance, aren’t you?” she smiles gently.

Yes sure, word it that way if you must, Edelgard thinks to herself as she forcibly keeps herself to contain her irritation.

“Let’s go with that then,” she manages to get out of her mouth only mildly strained.

Rhea looks visibly pleased. “Good.”

She continues to stare at Edelgard as if she’s not done speaking yet, but also completely expects Edelgard to patiently wait until Rhea is ready to continue speaking.

So Edelgard waits… impatiently.

“My Mother let me know she’s too busy to look into this matter right now but will try to do so in the coming week or so,” the Saint says in one swift breath and looks at Edelgard with something resembling shame.

Edelgard blinks. “I’m sorry _what?_ Too busy? Is there some kind of war going on somewhere in Fodlan I’m not aware of? A famine? Plague?” she asks incredulously.

“Not in Fodlan no,” Rhea says with a small secretive smile that makes Edelgard deeply uncomfortable for reasons she cannot comprehend. “But somewhere else, probably yes.”

“ _Somewhere else?”_ Edelgard repeats.

“Hmm, somewhere we don’t have to bother with,” Rhea hums vaguely. “Somewhere _very_ far away.”

Yes, no Edelgard _really_ does not like the implications of this. “Somewhere far away like another planet?” she asks with mild despair because _what._

“I’m legally forbidden to speak about these matters,” Rhea says curtly, yet almost nonchalantly so. “Besides, I don’t know anything about such matters to begin with, my wisdom begins and ends with things pertaining to Fodlan.”

Oh yes that’s very reassuring, this Child of the Goddess doesn’t know if her mom is out there stopping wars among alien life. Peachy.

“But she’s your _Mother,”_ Edelgard sputters with disbelief. “I was under the assumption you and all the Saints were in direct contact with her because the Church always insists you serve as her mouthpiece to guide us.”

“We _are,”_ Rhea insists with ferocity. “There is just a slight delay if she’s busy and well… time has never been my Mother’s strongest suite.”

“Oh.”

Rhea looks suddenly very guilty. “I’m sorry,” she almost whispers. “I really tried, it’s just often a struggle to truly reach my Mother.”

The words hit a snare in Edelgard and she can’t help but feel a strange sort of pity for the Saint, as she now really feels like a normal child in need of guidance of their parent, who is very absent.

…And also the Goddess, who is apparently _also_ very absent.

That really must be anxiety inducing if you’re responsible for an entire planet full of people who are under the assumption the Goddess is everywhere and you’re here to speak for her.

“That can’t be easy on you, for her to leave you to deal with this by yourself.”

“You’re _wrong,_ ” Rhea says sharply and at once very on edge. “She’s perfect as the Goddess, it’s _me_ who falls short,” she tells Edelgard firmly and there is a look in her eyes that looks close to panic.

Edelgard feels as if she blindly marched into a _very_ delicate topic all of a sudden, and she really should have expected this as even members of her local church were always very defensive and touchy about the Goddess so of course a Saint who actually knows her and is also her Daughter would have… feelings about this.

“I’m sorry,” she says hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She frantically looks for something to say, something she can relate with. “I miss my own mother a lot sometimes,” she confesses, something which she hasn’t openly admitted in years. “I just thought you might miss yours as well.” She rubs her upper arm with her other hand awkwardly. “Sorry, I don’t really know how this works, if she’s your Mother in the same way a uh… a human mother would be.”

Rhea looks at her as if Edelgard just said something incredibly mind-blowing and for a moment truly worth looking at as an equal. “I do miss her yes,” she admits as well, and once again looks ashamed for saying that. “And she can be oddly human,” she continues with a distant smile, before her expression promptly turns more sour again. “And sometimes not at all,” she adds with a little discomfort. “It can be… unsettling.”

Edelgard stifles a laugh. “I can imagine so. Please don’t consider this rude but from human to the human part of you, it sounds like a very difficult burden to have your mother also be the Goddess the whole world worships, especially if you know a lot more about her than them.”

She gets a smile that makes Rhea look very exposing and somehow a little smaller than normal. “That’s nice of you to say,” she says gently. “It makes me feel understood, which doesn’t happen very often.”

Edelgard returns the smile but the Saint apparently wasn’t done yet. “I mean, you don’t understand of course,” she adds casually, really ruining the moment in Edelgard’s humble opinion. “But it’s kind of you to try in your own way.”

One day Edelgard will punch the air of superiority out of Rhea’s lungs, she quietly swears this to herself, but that day is not today. “Then keep sharing things with me, maybe one day I’ll actually understand you,” she says instead, opting to keep things civil for once.

The doubtful smile she receives makes her vow to make sure the day she manages to humble Lady Rhea comes even sooner.

“Speaking of sharing things,” she continues, in desperate need for a change of topic because she can’t take much more insults at her sup par human intelligence, “could I maybe share a little of our predicament with Hubert?” she tries hopefully.

“No.” Comes the very resolute and stern sounding answer.

“But-”

“ _No.”_

Edelgard scoffs. “You’re being unfair, this is hard on me as well and I have no one to talk about my problems with.”

She gets a look that conveys Rhea does not at all understand what her issue is. “You can talk to me about any problems you’re heaving with this,” she tells Edelgard pointedly.

“I can’t because _you_ are the thing I’m having problems with,” Edelgard finally snaps.

“Excuse me?” Rhea bristles.

“I… just… well, some of the things you say are very frustrating, Lady Rhea,” Edelgard tries to explain.

This doesn’t settle well at all with the other woman, who looks very upset now. “How am I frustrating?”

Edelgard blinks in disbelief and really wonders if Rhea can actually relate to a human in any way. “Just… at least half of the things you said to me in this room today alone frustrated me,” she explains in the vain hope the Archbishop will understand.

Rhea gets a very sour look on her face. “I wasn’t,” she says defensively.

Before Edelgard gives in to her frustration she manages to have a thought. A smart one.

“Try to remember some of the things you said to me today and imagine I said them to you.”

She watches Rhea recall their conversation, an amusing sight on its own, before she seems to conclude Edelgard’s words are making no sense. “You cannot possibly think you could ever understand the complexity of the problems I have to deal with, you have it very easy compared to me.”

“See, that one right there. Imagine me saying that to you.”

“But that would make no sense, you would be wrong,” Rhea insists.

“From your perspective maybe, but I _also_ have problems and I think I can safely say I had a difficult life, one which you don’t know anything about.”

“Your twenty five years cannot live up to my centuries of-”

“It’s not a competition!” Edelgard interrupts her. “I just want you to understand I had it rough, and as of recent it’s been even rougher and you _really_ don’t understand just why, perhaps exactly because you’re a Saint, so I would really appreciate it if you would let me vent to someone on my level who would understand. It would ease my burdens a little.”

Rhea looks at her for several incredibly long seconds.

“Fine,” she says curtly.

“Really?” Edelgard utters in surprise.

“Yes, if this ‘venting’ will make you more amicable and easier to deal with then by all means go ahead and do it, but if I catch the von Vestra boy telling our secret to anyone else I am _not_ done with either one of you,” Rhea tells her with narrowed eyes and mild suspicion.

Edelgard almost screams out in frustration because _of course_ the Saint would only let her because she assumes it will make Edelgard behave better and be less of a problem to her but she manages to refrain from doing so just in time by reminding herself she can save the screaming for later now, when she’s venting to Hubert.

“Thank you,” she manages to choke out.

“Hmm,” Rhea hums, not at all sounding pleased. “Now if you would excuse me, could you please go? This conversation was draining as it is and I have matters to attend to,” she tells Edelgard casually.

Yes, definitely getting taken down a notch, preferably by Edelgard’s fist… as soon as they can touch.

“Of course,” she says, her voice an octave higher than normal. “Wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

The Archbishop looks at her slightly surprised. “You’re not?” she says confusedly. “Your Crest is, maybe. But you aren’t. It was helpful of you to suggest we confide in one another and truly kind of you to try and understand me.” She looks in deep thought for a moment. “Was this one of the things I say that frustrate you?”

“A little yes,” Edelgard retorts dryly.

“Oh.” Rhea flusters a little and looks embarrassed. “You shouldn’t take my words too personally, it’s just been a very long time since I had to argue with anyone. All normal people heed my words.” She turns to look a little startled. “That’s not a bad thing I mean, but it’s genuinely draining for me to have such a long conversation with someone where I have to… explain myself.” She says it as if the very notion is alien to her, and once again Edelgard feels a little bad for the other woman, which she really doesn’t deserve. “I’ll have to get used to it, if you keep wanting answers,” Rhea finishes and sounds only slightly accusing.

“I’ll try to be patient then,” Edelgard smiles. “Because I definitely want answers.”

“Hmm,” comes the dissatisfied response.

“Well, then I’ll leave you to recover,” Edelgard grins and heads for the door with a little bow. “Goodbye Lady Rhea.”

“Goodbye, Miss von Hresvelg.”

She already has her hand on the door handle when another thought strikes her and she turns around to speak. “Oh and uhm, I just wanted to say that you aren’t falling short,” she says and feels herself fluster as she tries to convey her feelings. “You are enough, Lady Rhea.” _A little too much honestly,_ she quietly adds in her mind.

The way Rhea looks at her with wide eyes and a deep blush on her cheeks is enough for Edelgard to feel oddly happy, especially when Rhea gets a small but genuine and incredibly endearing smile on her lips. It almost looks as if she’s beaming and Edelgard has to force herself out the door lest she won’t get herself to leave any longer.

And with a spring in her step she’s off to find Hubert. She has some venting to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was really tempted to actually name the chapter "The Pope gets her privilege checked" but in the end she didn't learn all that much and Edelgard is definitely gonna vibe check her at some point.  
> It's enjoyable to write them in a competition of 'who can make the other one more frustrated this round!'
> 
> Sothis just has Rhea permanently set straight to voicemail because 'Fodlan is fine sweetie" while Rhea keeps spamming her with innate problems, now one about how she got herself a pet soulmate. Good for her Sothis guesses, she doesn't really know, she didn't finish listening to the message yet as she's a bit busy trying to stop the Borg from assimilating yet another sentient race to their hivemind and Fodlan is several levels of technology too low to matter enough on a cosmic scale to get noticed, she really can't be bothered with this right now smh.


	11. The prince and the princess

She finds Hubert exactly where she left him earlier. Or rather, he’s a few benches to the left of where she left him, now sitting in the shade either hiding from the sun or from other people. Regardless of his motives, he looks visibly relieved when he spots her.

“You’re alive,” he says with an awkward kind of cheerfulness. “And free to go as you please, it seems.”

“Never been better,” Edelgard grins, still slightly giddy on her triumph over Rhea.

Hubert narrows his eyes at her and suddenly looks deeply suspicious. “How do I know this is the real you? For all I know you’re one of Lady Rhea’s lackeys under an illusion spell trying to gain intel on me or my friend”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to tell Lady Rhea you spoke of her that way,” Edelgard jokes, amusement by his suspicion.

Hubert remains staring at her coldly. “What’s my favorite color?” he asks her curtly.

Edelgard shrugs. “I would guess black but seeing as you didn’t tell me I’m going to go with gay.”

To her relief Hubert snorts. “I regret explaining what that means to you,” he says, trying to look disappointed yet the smile tugging at the corners at his lips betrays his true feelings. “It’s not black, by the way,” he clarifies more seriously. “It’s purple.”

“Aha.”

“A very dark shade of purple.”

“So black then.”

“ _No,”_ comes the aghast response. “There is a very important difference.”

“My apologies, I have trouble telling certain hues apart, a birth defect related to why I was born with white hair,” Edelgard tells Hubert solemnly and gleefully watches him immediately pale at her words.

“I’m sorry I… I didn’t… I’m sorry… _oh.”_ His stuttering stills when he sees her expression. “You’re mocking me,” he states dryly when Edelgard fails to suppress a giggle. “Very funny,” he adds with a thin smile and an icy glare.

“Hmm, I will take it you believe I’m really me now,” Edelgard grins unapologetically. “Now don’t you want to know what I just had to suffer through?” she asks, a tad eager to share her experience with her friend.

“I was under the assumption that it would be considered confidential knowledge,” Hubert responds with mild concern. “Please don’t make me an unwilling accomplice in your crimes.”

“Oh it was confidential but I told her I wanted to share it with you and she told me it was alright… eventually,” Edelgard says with a hint of pride. “She relented when I said it was important to me.”

Her friend’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…. You told the Archbishop you wanted to share some kind of secret knowledge with me and she just… _relented?”_ he asks her with stark disbelief.

Edelgard nods proudly. “Indeed I did. I even put in a good word for you,” she boasts to him in delight.

Hubert makes a strained noise. “You mentioned me?” he squeaks fearfully.

“Well, she mentioned you first… a few times,” Edelgard explains clumsily before smiling at him reassuringly. “I simply corrected her,” she says with confidence.

“Ah, that’s… comforting.” Hubert doesn’t sound at all convinced and instead still looks very worried. “But share what’s on your mind, you’re clearly dying to tell me.”

“That obvious huh.”

“A little.”

Edelgard opts to ignore his sarcastic remarks in favor of actually getting to share what’s been burdening her the past weeks.

And then proceeds to flounder impressively as it suddenly feels very awkward.

“So, uh… remember when I said I had two Crests?” she begins stiffly.

“I do yes.”

“Well, when I was born they didn’t work at all. They were black and I couldn’t use magic at all… and to top it off both of them were previously unknown and didn’t resemble any know ones. That’s probably where some of those rumors you heard came from,” she explains tentatively, feeling increasingly tense as she fears Hubert might start to think badly of her.

“You have my attention. Continue,” is his only response and he looks deeply intrigued by her words.

His seemingly unbiased intrigue gives Edelgard just enough courage to continue. “As it turns out,” she mutters, “they aren’t that unknown after all.” She rubs the back of her head almost shyly.

Hubert looks at her expectantly.

“One of them is hers.”

“Who? Wait… _hers?_ As in her the _Archbishop,”_ Hubert wonders, bemused and conflicted. “But that’s impossible, Saints don’t have Crests.”

“Not a visible one, apparently,” Edelgard corrects him.

Her friend narrows his eyes at her, a slightly eager glint in his eyes. “Explain.”

Briefly Edelgard wonders just how much he’s currently interested in her predicament and actually secretly much more interested in getting his hands on some kind of hidden knowledge about Saints, but she decides to let it slide for now.

“Wait,” she says. “Let’s continue this in your room, what with the walls having ears and all.”

Hubert has just enough time to nod before he makes a noise in surprise as Edelgard grabs his hand and tugs him off the bench and after her.

“Should you really be holding my hand,” he asks her worriedly as he’s being dragged along.

“I should yes, I have permission from the Archbishop now,” Edelgard tells him with a smirk.

“You… _what,”_ Hubert asks her with an incredulous expression as he catches up to her and matches her pace. “I both really want to know and wish to remain blissfully ignorant.”

“As if you have a choice in the matter.” 

Hubert grumbles something but otherwise holds his tongue until they arrive in his room and locks the door behind him.

Edelgard sits down on the edge of his bed and patiently waits until he takes seat on the chair by his desk before continuing.

“Apparently all sentient beings… or at least human-like ones, I have no idea about animals, have a Crest inside them as it’s some sort of manifestation of the soul.”

“The soul,” Hubert echoes stoically as he gives her a skeptical look.

“Yes.”

“So she just has a Crest inside her yet decided not to tell anyone.”

“I think so,” Edelgard muses. “I assume she keeps the sigil hidden and doesn’t need to summon it for any magic she uses. I mean she’s pretty powerful.”

“The most powerful even among the Saints yes,” Hubert supplies with a frown. “So you mean to tell me that if her Crest is her soul and you have her Crest you have the same soul?” He raises his eyebrows skeptically at her.

“In a way… That’s what she said yes,” Edelgard mumbles awkwardly, suddenly feeling terribly exposed.

“Oh goody, you’re soul mates with the Archbishop,” Hubert declares unceremoniously with mild dread lacing his voice.

“Hubert _no!”_ Edelgard hisses as she flusters. “Don’t word it like that.”

“Fine,” he grumbles and then looks at her for a long few seconds until a glint lights up in his eyes.

“Crest companions.”

“ _Hubert!”_

A moment of silence passes at Hubert looks at her without any emotion whatsoever.

“… Sigil sisters.”

His own pillow flies into the general vicinity of his head for saying that last one, although the thing misses him so easily he doesn’t even have to duck his head and the pillow instead meets the wall behind him before falling onto the floor. “I said stop it!” Edelgard exclaims, now with reddened cheeks and incredibly embarrassed.

Hubert chuckles and politely tries to be less mean by muffling the sound as he presses his hand against his mouth. “My apologies, it’s simply a bit much to take in.”

He looks her up and down curiously. “So can you read her mind or anything like that?” he asks her a tad too eager for her liking.

“What? No… nothing of the sort.”

“Pity,” he says in disappointment. Abruptly a wary expression etches into his features. “Can she read yours?”

“No,” Edelgard insists with vigor, deliberately not mentioning that Rhea can somewhat sense her location, likely along with sensing various other things. “I mean we do have some sort of uh… connection after she uhm… discovered I had her Crest. It was an accident,” she stammers as she fumbles with her words. “But she would have told me… right?” she mumbles, more to herself than to Hubert as the thought is rather worrisome.

Sadly Hubert finds the idea equally worrisome. “Edelgard, this is detrimental to our friendship. How can I confide in you if _she_ might be listening in?” He tells her firmly. She can tell he’s deliberately exaggerating, and joking ...but not entirely.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, feeling suddenly quite hurt at the thought that Rhea might have far more power over her than she anticipated. “I really think she would tell me… she seems to be honest with me. At least more so than I expected,” she reasons, trying not to sound as defeated as she feels. “And she lets me get away with saying things to her that are probably very disrespectful, if not plainly enough to get me expelled or imprisoned. …So I guess it’s fine?”

“A bold statement,” Hubert says thinly before relaxing somewhat. “But knowing you and seeing as she indeed lets you get away with acting the way you did, and the rumors about us… well it will suffice for now,” he sighs, just slightly more dramatic than he needs to be.

“Thank you,” Edelgard tells him with a sigh of relief.

“So who does your other Crest belong to?”

Edelgard looks at him with mild despair. “Oh… ah… the Goddess, apparently.”

“…. _Edelgard!”_

After Edelgard has sufficiently calmed her rather miffed friend down by convincing him she’s not some servant acting on the Goddess and her Child’s behalf she _also_ has to spend an ample amount of time convincing him she’s not being used by said Goddess and her Child as an instrument that the both of them are casually making use of, and that they are most definitely _not_ currently looking through Edelgard’s eyes.

“I understand your concern,” she counters. “But you have to take my circumstances into account. Aside from everything _caused_ by my abnormal Crests my life has been too mundane, too average, at least in terms of what I have experienced. If my Crests had some sort of purpose it makes no sense for me to have lived this long without being approached by anyone, divinity or human, who wanted to make use of my so called divine connection,” she explains to her friend patiently.

The thought had occurred to her too, and it got her worried just as well. With this reasoning she had managed to rid herself of the mild dread that both Rhea and whoever else was involved were using her as some kind of eagle eye, their unknowing spy.

Hubert seems to let his suspicions go and instead attempts to rely on trusting his friend. “Edelgard,” he says, looking more stiff and almost awkward than she’s used to seeing him. “I have thoughts and feelings regarding the faith that aren’t… allowed,” he tells her in a low whisper. “Even if I believe you, neither of us know what goes on in the minds of the Goddess and her Children. I would be taking a huge risk were I to open up to you about my thoughts on the faith,” he explains to her with an edge to his voice.

Edelgard feels her heart sink. As much as the enigma that is Rhea has added to her life in such a short span of time… her being the reason she cannot be friends with Hubert stings.

“Edelgard,” Hubert says again, causing her to realize she was staring hard at the ground near her feet with her fists clenched. When she looks up to meet his eyes there is a soft expression on his features. “I am willing to take that risk,” he tells her with a smile as his cheeks redden. “You uh… I know we haven’t known each other for very long but you are important to me,” he says and the moment he finishes he looks away in embarrassment. “My friendship with you is worth more to me than anything the Goddess could punish me for,” he adds quietly.

Edelgard blinks at him, perplexed that her usually so stoic friend would tell her this. She feels her heart flutter and at once it’s almost unbearably confronting to realize how alone she’s been for so many years.

“I...I,” she says and then chokes on her words as a strangled sob is becomes the only sound she’s able to produce.

“You’re crying?” Hubert says softly and looks at her with worry. “Did I say something wro-”

“No you idiot,” Edelgard chides him, getting up from the bed and closing in on Hubert as she embraces him in an awkward but tight hug. “I’m happy,” she utters and once she hears herself say that she feels more tears well up in her eyes.

Hubert’s arms wrap around her back, much more delicately and almost afraid to touch her like this, the strange angle of him sitting and her standing not making it any easier for the poor man.

When she breaks the embrace Hubert surprises her by standing up along with her. “Hold on I need to do something,” he says as takes the few steps to reach the center of his room.

When he turns to face her and suddenly both his eyes and his raised left hand glow dark purple a sudden fear announces itself in Edelgard’s head.

“It’s not for you,” Hubert explains as his Crest appears just above his hand. “It’s for everyone else.”

The way he does it makes it look simple but Edelgard can see the years of practice in his fluid movements, how easy he concentrates and how artfully he summons and shapes the magic coiling around him.

With a single, almost languid wave of both his hands moving to the side only to clasp together just in front of him the large and slow swirl of purple magic around Hubert blasts open and clashes against the walls, ceiling and floor where it solidifies in a thin layer as it shimmers for a moment.

And then it’s gone.

Edelgard’s hand is on her chest, pressed against it with underneath her clothes the ring lays against her skin.

The familiar emptiness is back, the hole in her heart, that gnawing loneliness skitters underneath her skin.

The ring is not working.

“What did you do?” Edelgard rasps with more panic in her voice than she anticipated.

Quickly she calms herself and looks at Hubert expectantly, hopefully without wide eyes and shock written on her face.

“An illusion spell,” Hubert explains, looking slightly worried at her. “It disconnects this small space from the outside magically. No magic can get in and no magic can get out.” His eyes narrow and he looks her over. “Are you alright? You should not have noticed anything, unless…”

“I didn’t notice anything. Or well, nothing of the sort you’re implying,” Edelgard tells him hurriedly. “I’m just very sensitive to magic since I can’t control mine well. It felt like a wave of air was pushed through me,” she says, not entirely lying because she did feel a wave crashing into her, making her feel as if she was suddenly submerged and only realizing she could still breath once she inhaled, but she left out the part where the wave took something along with it.

“Ah, my apologies I should have warned you,” Hubert says with guilt in his voice. “I just… I wanted to tell you about my thoughts regarding the faith and I wanted to make sure that no divinity was listening…. Although I’m sure that if the Goddess really wanted to hear what I have to say she could override my magic as if it was air.” He bites his lip. “Either way, it was rude of me to use the spell without explaining it to you, it’s become a habit and I didn’t think it through,” he says, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

Edelgard smiles reassuringly and waves of his apology. “It’s fine Hubert, it wasn’t that bad. One small lapse in communication won’t cause our friendship any damage,” she tells him.

Relief washes over Hubert, who flusters and nods in gratitude.

“Now, spill your dirty secrets,” Edelgard grins. “I’m all ears.”

Briefly it occurs to her that if she felt the connection between her and the Archbishop sever, Lady Rhea would most likely too. If the Saint was aware of Edelgard’s location when Hubert used his spell then it could mean Rhea now knows exactly where she is, and likely with who. Depending on how Rhea decides to interpret Edelgard wanting to be alone with Hubert under a spell where no one can find them with magic there is a chance that they’ll be interrupted by a knock on the door at some point. …Or the door will suddenly fly through the room.

But Edelgard told the woman to trust her and hopes Lady Rhea really is making an effort to do just that.

Hubert has taken seat on a chair close to his desk he had manifested from… somewhere a few days ago and leans over, a calculated expression on his face as Edelgard watches him think.

“When I look at the world,” he begins carefully, “I don’t see the Goddess.”

Edelgard raises her eyebrows in confusion, immediately concerned just what Hubert has gotten into his head. “But she’s everywhere.”

Her friend shakes his head. “No, _evidence_ of her is everywhere. Our Crests, her deeds throughout history that are so well documented no one will doubt the truth of them, and of course the Church who practices the faith she established to this day.” He folds his hands together. “That’s just it, the _Church_ is everywhere, but what was the last time anyone has seen the Goddess, or that her direct influence on Fodlan was seen?”

Edelgard’s eyes grow wide as her mind runs wild with the implications of Hubert’s words. “Are you suggesting the Church has been fabricating the existence of the Goddess?” she asks perplexed. “And that they’re lying. About everything?” The thought is deeply unsettling but also hard to believe, especially with Lady Rhea having spoken about her connection to the Goddess several times. While those could have been lies… the amount of emotion the Archbishop seems to feel whether she speaks of her Mother would be hard to fake.

Hubert shakes his head again. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Not exactly at least,” he tells Edelgard, who feels reluctantly relieved at once. “I have several theories as to why, but I believe that the Goddess is currently absent and has been for centuries.”

“Absent?” Edelgard echoes. Somewhere in her mind a voice tells her she was confronted with Lady Rhea openly implying the Goddess was indeed more absent than the Church suggests and abruptly she doesn’t like where this is going.

“Yes, aside from her coming down to take out Lucifer over a thousand years ago the Goddess doesn’t seem to influence or guide Fodlan at all anymore, at least not actively. Sending Lucifer away was the last time she was physically present on Fodlan, even,” Hubert explains.

Immediately all sorts of counterarguments arise in Edelgard’s mind, predominantly the one where Lady Rhea spoke of her struggle to contact her Mother, but telling that to Hubert probably won’t help her case. “But the Goddess comes down to visit Fodlan the last three days of each year,” Edelgard says instead. “We have a three day festival full of sacred rituals for this exact occasion.”

Hubert merely raises his eyebrows. “She doesn’t come down to visit Fodlan, Edelgard. She comes down to visit her _Children,”_ he tells her pointedly, looking slightly triumphant. “And those all hole up together in the long-since abandoned Ynys Lannog Priestholm during those three days while no human gets to see so much as a glimpse of her.”

Again countless arguments twirl through Edelgard’s mind but none of them wipe off Hubert’s statement cleanly. He… has a point. The purpose of that yearly meaning isn’t for the Goddess to communicate with mankind but to spend time with her Children and ensure those know what her will for Fodlan is for the following year. …But Edelgard can’t deny that there is no proof the Goddess actually comes down…

“So what do you think is the truth?” she asks him, now more interesting in hearing what is on Hubert’s mind than defending the Church which was never even there to defend _her._

“I see you’re heeding my words,” Hubert says with a hint of smugness. “Things fall apart quickly once you pull on a few threads, don’t you think?” he grins, clearly enjoying being in his element.

“Hubert, spare me your power drunk feelings and speak with your mind instead,” Edelgard admonishes him as she groans in annoyance.

He pouts and looks visibly sour she won’t let him have his moment of grandeur. ‘Fine,” he mutters. “I don’t think she’s not real, not at all. But I truly think that she is no longer actively watching over Fodlan. I have several theories. She could have died or left her Children in charge and left forever, it’s possible she got weakened and simply cannot oversee Fodlan anymore, or maybe she was never as powerful as the Church makes her out to be to begin with.”

Edelgard is silent as she mules over his words. Some of those theories make a startling amount of sense, and that’s very unnerving to her, especially since she’s more or less connected to Lady Rhea now and won’t be free from that anytime soon.

In fact, if Rhea is speaking the truth about her Mother then Edelgard could give Hubert some fuel to create better theories, seeing as the Archbishop casually admitted her Mother is tending to _other planets_ with _other lifeforms._ That would explain it if the Goddess truly isn’t actively keeping her eyes on Fodlan. …And then there is that thing again with Rhea seeming to be so hurt that her Mother wasn’t responding timely when Rhea reached out to her.

So if Rhea’s seemingly genuinely words and emotions are anything to go by, the Goddess definitely isn’t dead, weakened or gone forever… but quite possibly having left most of the divine aspects of the Church in the hands of her Children while she’s busy with whatever planet needs her guidance.

That thought still unnerves her, that there are _other sentient form of life_ out there which are intelligent enough the Goddess also guides and blesses them with her powers. What the fuck.

“You know something,” Hubert states, emotionless but sharp.

Edelgard jolts out of her thoughts and meets his eyes, which seem to be peering into her mind.

“I watched you grow from worried to confused, followed by _deeply_ worried and then back to an expression that I can only seemed to convey _‘oh no’._ So you know something which I don’t.” It’s a statement not open for debate.

Edelgard nods slowly and hangs her head. “I do yes,” she says softly and groans in frustration. “It’s probably very confidential and yet I don’t know if telling you would help soothe your fears or work to solidify your theories even more.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything that’s confidential. Not even in here,” Hubert reassures her. “I will never ask that of you, I promise.”

Edelgard smiles at him. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I think there is one thing I could tell you which might help with giving your theories more ground,” she says, wondering if saying it would feel like a betrayal to Lady Rhea.

“If you consider it safe and needed then I would be most grateful,” Hubert says, struggling to sound patient. He’s failing miserably at that though.

“Ah well, Lady Rhea spoke of the Goddess a few times in a way that makes it clear she really is… out there, but perhaps indeed in a little more absent way than the Church might suggest. So at the very least the Goddess isn’t dead or gone,” Edelgard explains tentatively, deliberately trying to be vague for Rhea’s sake and also most definitely not mentioning anything about alien life.

“And you trust her on this?” Hubert asks slightly skeptically.

“No.” _Yes,_ a voice inside her says more loudly. “But I don’t think she was lying. Unless she was deliberately making up some story from the moment she met me it would make no sense,” Edelgard reasons. “And I don’t think she’s all too good in lying about this topic, she seems far too, ah… emotional when it comes to the Goddess for that,” she adds sheepishly.

Hubert crosses his arms and nods. “That seems plausible.”

“What are you planning to do with this?” Edelgard suddenly wonders with concern.

Her friend seems confused by the question. “Brood about it?” he blinks.

“No, I mean if you ever do find out the truth,” Edelgard sighs. “You’re not planning to overthrow the Church or anything, aren’t you?”

Hubert covers his mouth with his hand as he snorts. “What? Oh no, I don’t need that kind of attention on me,” he laughs. “I just want to know because I dislike not knowing, I do not wish to believe in anything that isn’t true.” He’s silent for a while before adding, “And so I get to enjoy knowing something other people don’t.”

“That’s really petty of you,” Edelgard chides him, secretly relieved she doesn’t have to choose between helping her friend overthrow the Church or stopping him from doing so.

“It’s petty of the Church to lie about the Goddess too,” Hubert counters, clearly pleased with himself and too smug for Edelgard to take seriously.

“And you could have done so much good with your thirst for knowledge if it wasn’t for your stubborn pride,” Edelgard sighs dramatically.

“Hmm,” Hubert hums as he considers her words. “Perhaps I’ll start a small cult if I do ever find out the whole truth.”

“Hubert _no._ ”

He refused to take anything Edelgard said seriously after that, arguing he simply isn’t the kind of person who wants to be in the spotlight and almost gleefully agreeing with her when she mocked him for taking too much to the shadows.

It was reassuring enough that when she left his room half an hour later there were very little worries left on her mind about him causing trouble with whatever information she had given him. She had to struggle to hide her relief when she exited the door and felt the ring spring back to life as her connection to Lady Rhea reestablished, waving of his worried look with a laugh after she had exhaled shakily.

The pit of cold agony in her stomach instantly seemed to shrink back into nothingness as a part of her rejoiced in no longer being severed from something it really didn’t want to be severed from.

Which was an uncomfortable thing to feel truly. She really doesn’t need to feel incomplete without an emotional Archbishop prone to whims constantly in her near vicinity.

Although admittedly it was probably an admirable accomplishment on Lady Rhea’s part she hadn’t broken through Hubert’s door and barged in after she had felt their connection break, as Edelgard is sure the woman must have experienced the same sensation she did. She couldn’t imagine the Saint being very good at letting something happen under her watchful eye which she couldn’t fully control and resisting the urge to _do something about it at once._

Perhaps Lady Rhea is truly trying to trust her, in the Saint’s own frustrating way

Edelgard wasn’t left alone for very long though, but surprisingly it wasn’t Lady Rhea who found her.

“Claude,” she states flatly once it becomes apparent to her the figure walking _inappropriately_ close behind her is doing so on purpose. “I see you have returned.”

“Oh good you noticed me,” her strange friend says with exaggerated relief. “I’m glad, it was getting awkward really.”

“Hmm, how was your trip?” she asks after she throws him a brief glare in greeting.

“Uneventful,” he says with a small secretive laugh, not really helping his words sound genuine. “But I brought you a new friend, you should come and meet him.”

Edelgard stops in her track, confused by what he just said. “You did what now?”

“Yes I went through _all_ the trouble of fetching you someone nice and what do I hear upon my return? You went and made a friend on your own already. Ungrateful,” he chides her. “You even replaced _me,”_ he adds with an incredibly hurt expression.

“I can have more than one friend Claude,” Edelgard tells him pointedly.

Claude raises his hands and waves them overly passionate. “But not two of the _same_. I’ve been told he’s like a watered down version of me. Secretive, sketchy, untrustworthy, always scheming, likes to get on Lady Rhea’s nerves, those things.”

“Don’t talk about my friend like that,” Edelgard bristles with a scowl on her face.

“Which one?” comes the infuriatingly cheeky response.

“I am sorely missing the time you were gone,” she huffs yet it’s a losing battle because she can’t fully wipe the smile of her face.

“And I am simply hurt you’d go and do that behind my back. And you are already _very_ good friends too if the rumors are anything to go by,” Claude says accusingly as he looks at her sourly.

“That’s not what the rumors say,” Edelgard corrects him with a small grin.

“It’s not what the _useful_ rumors say,” he corrects her effortlessly in return. “And from what I can tell you are far too amused with the people whispering about your thirst with the prince of darkness –and I _know_ you like it mostly because it’s absolutely driving Lady Rhea up the wall- for any of it to be true.”

Finally Edelgard loses her patience in putting up with Claude and him only vaguely informing her about just what he know. “Just how long have you been back that you already know any of this?” she hisses at him. “Surely my private life cannot be the liveliest thing to happen around here in the week you’ve been gone.”

“A few hours?” he shrugs dismissively. “And no, it’s not by far,” he adds a tad too happy for Edelgard not to feel offended. “It’s the funniest thing that happened though,” Claude grins. “Lady Rhea is really struggling to keep it together, I can’t count on my fingers the amount of times she apparently had what was described to me as a ‘small heart attack’ when confronted by either you or rumors about you.”

“Oh,” Edelgard mutters softly as she feels a pang of guilt. “Is she really struggling that much because of me?”

“Don’t feel bad about it, she likes it. Heaven’s know she needs your small tornado around Garreg Mach to feel a little more alive,” Claude reassures her. “That woman has no fun.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She gets a smug grin in return, the likes of which rival those of Hubert. “Lady Rhea would agree with you.”

“Aha. Well you’re right, Lady Rhea was getting worked up over nothing,” Edelgard explains to him before narrowing her eyes. “Did you hear anything about me at all that was true?”

“Probably not,” Claude sighs sadly. “Although… sucks about your two Crests,” he hums casually.

“ _Claude,”_ Edelgard exclaims in despair. “Just _how_ do you know that? What kind of magic are you using that you can even find these things out?”

He stares at her expressionlessly. “No magic, you were _literally_ talking about this to your new friend less than two hours ago,” he deadpans. “In public. For all of Garreg Mach to tattle on.”

Edelgard flusters as she recalls she indeed did that very thing, fully under the belief that no one was listening in. “I didn’t think anyone was close enough to hear,” she mumbles as she stares awkwardly at the ground.

“Don’t ever assume that around here,” Claude lectures her, sounding like a wise sage as he looks at her with an infuriatingly wise expression. “But you can safely assume that the kind of people who hear aren’t the kind of people who will gossip about it. …At least not in a way it will make it into the ears of the public.”

“Alright,” Edelgard murmurs demurely. “Did you really hear everything?” she asks, wondering what Claude thinks about just who one of her two Crests belongs to.

“I did yes,” he nods. “But not personally so I have some catching up to do, verify everything and all,” he tells her nonchalantly. “So give me a day or so and I’ll come back to it with a more accurate version.”

“Please do not,” she croaks.

“Hmm,” is the noncommittal response she gets, not suggesting anything good. “But back to more fun topic,” Claude says as he grabs her wrists and tugs her along with him. “Come, I told you I have a friend for you. Not nice to keep fellow royalty waiting,” he winks as he drags her along, chuckling as she stifles a yelp and shoots him an angry look.

She lets herself be pulled into a mostly empty corner of the dining hall with only mild contempt, where she is greeted with the sight of a pitiful looking boy poking a fork into an equally pitiful meal he doesn’t seem keen on to finish.

“Your highness,” Claude announces too loud to be necessary and likely purposefully startling the boy as he stiffens and looks to the approaching pair with wide eyes.

“Princess, meet the prince,” he declares ceremoniously as he lets go of Edelgard’s wrist.

Her introduction really rubs Edelgard the wrong way. “Damnit Claude, I told you not to call me that,” she sneers before turning to the boy to correct him. “Please, don’t listen to him, and don’t let him call you that, we don’t need him to make fun of us so easily.”

Beside her Claude wheezes, his hand flying to cover his mouth, as the boy turns to look even more miserable than before. “I’m… I’m actually a prince,” he mumbles almost guiltily.

“Really?” Edelgard accidently blurts out in disbelief, much to Claude’s visible joy.

He pokes her in the side with his elbow. “Heir to the throne of Faerghus too,” Claude laughs as he struggles to keep his composure.

“Really?” she repeats much more weakly, starting to wish she was _anywhere_ but here. Her father would be so disappointed in her socialite skills if he had seen this. He had put so much effort in teaching her proper etiquette too…

The boy nods, much to Edelgard’s dismay. “I’m Dimitri,” he tells her softly, looking almost ashamed to tell her this at this point.

Ah, she doesn’t really need to hear the rest of his name to know which Dimitri she’s currently talking to.

“Your highness,” she says stiffly as she does what is hopefully the proper curtsey for greeting foreign royalty. “My apologies, I wasn’t… told beforehand,” she tells Dimitri, shooting Claude a sour look because he _definitely_ lured her into making a fool of herself.

“Nice save,” Claude whispers gleefully under his breath as he gives her a thumbs up.

Dimitri hurriedly waves his hand at her. “Please that’s not necessary. Prince Dimitri is fine… or just Dimitri,” he stammers awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’ve never left court before.” He glances at Claude before looking at Edelgard once more. “I’m just assuming that since I’m to be a student here I’ll be equal to everyone else. I don’t want to be treated differently.”

“Oh, don’t assume that dear Dimitri,” Claude tells him, clearly having already been in the know that calling the prince by his first name is acceptable. “People will love to treat a prince as their ‘equal’.”

Edelgard gets another jab in her ribs and gasps before scowling at her assailant. “But this one is alright. Goddess knows she already sees you as an equal, she’s uppity enough that she feels like royalty,” he smiles.

“ _Claude!_ ”

“What’s your name?” Dimitri asks her, helpfully making her realize she’s been talking to this boy for quite a while without introducing herself, which she once again blames solely on Claude.

“It’s Edelgard von Hresvelg,” she tells him hurriedly.

“Von Hresvelg?” Dimitri repeats in surprise. “And you’re really not a princess?” he says with a glimmer of hope.

She shakes his head. “No, not officially. My father is the grandson of the Emperor, which makes me… very minor royalty,” Edelgard tells him.

“Ah well that’s something at least,” Dimitri smiles before his eyes widen in horror. “Oh Goddess I didn’t mean… I just… Sorry, I feel so outlandish here, I don’t know how to talk to anyone,” he stutters, averting his eyes to stare at his food with an even more miserable expression.

“Well aren’t the two of you matching social disasters,” Claude smirks as he casually sits down opposite of Dimitri, gesturing for Edelgard to sit next to him with an impatient wave as he steals an olive of Dimitri’s plate. “I knew this was a good idea. And loosen up Dimitri, Edelgard probably already knows enough stiff nobles to last her a lifetime.”

“It’s alright pri- Dimitri. Don’t mind Claude please,” Edelgard tells the boy, sitting down and pointedly ignoring Claude’s hurt expression. “How old are you?” she asks him in an attempt to help Dimitri overcome his internal suffering. “My apologies, it seems I have neglected to keep up with present affairs in your country,” she smiles apologetically for not at all remembering his age.

“I’m fourteen,” Dimitri tells her with slightly more life in him than before.

“Oh, that’s quite young,” Edelgard muses out loud while wondering why Claude is so insistent she makes friends with a child eleven years younger than her. He’s somewhat endearing though.

“It doesn’t really feel like that,” Dimitri says with a grimace. “I keep being lectured about needing to behave more responsible because the throne is… getting closer.” He looks so uncomfortable with that prospect Edelgard can’t help but feel bad for him.

“Well you are going to do great here then,” she tries to reassure him. “So far everyone I’ve met here is trying really hard to be more responsible.”

That finally evokes a smile out of Dimitri as he relaxes slightly. “I suppose I’ll learn that soon enough,” he laughs quietly. “My classes start tomorrow already.”

“Shit,” Edelgard mutters. “Mine too… at least I think. I need to find out where I’m supposed to be tomorrow.”

“Impressive,” Claude tells her with a smug grin. “Try to start with the morning prayer, I’ve been told you’ve been skipping out on those in my absence.”

“I didn’t know they were being held,” she defends herself with as she flusters.

“Even more impressive,” Claude tells her flatly, pursing his lips in amusement. “Even more so with Lady Rhea constantly on your tail. She’s the one who _holds them,_ you know.”

“Anyway Dimitri,” Edelgard says quickly, ignoring a visibly upset Claude once more. “Why is it you are attending this monastery and not the one in Faerghus?”

She gets elbowed in the ribs for the third time in the span of this conversation and only manages to swallow her anger when Claude glances at her with the first serious expression she’s seen on him today. “It has to do with the _stuff,_ Edelgard,” he tells her sharply and gives her a knowing look.

“Oh never mind,” Edelgard hums softly with am understanding nod. “That’s alright then.”

“The stuff?” Dimitri asks in confusion.

“Ah, uhm you know, stuff… or things in your life that are too complex or painful to say easily,” Edelgard explains to him, searching for the proper words.

“Oh,” the boy responds. “I do have stuff then,” he says with a small smile and just a hint of something more sad about him. “You too?”

“A bit yes,” Edelgard laughs. “But nothing worth mentioning right now. Besides I already got into a bunch of new stuff in the few weeks I’ve been here so I keep busy.”

Next to her Claude leans over to Dimitri with an elusive smirk on his face. “The _stuff_ she got into here is Lady Rhea herself,” he whispers conspiratorially, to which the prince’s eyes widen significantly.

“ _Claude!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard speedrunning three friendships because one thing slowly burning in a fic is hard enough to write.  
> Garreg Mach Monastery is Welsh for Little Stone Monastery (Because Rhea keeps the crest stones there, symbolic!) so I decided all other holy buildings get names after old religious buildings in Wales. the one I mentioned was even inhabited by a dude going by the name of Saint Seiriol so I'm vibing with it. 
> 
> Shout out to my man Claude for throwing Edelgard faster and more frequently under the bus than he could ever hope to do to Rhea.
> 
> Trying to write Hubert less Edgy Atheist and more High on Conspiracy theories but I'm still figuring that out.
> 
> Also 'She's my man' is my Favorite song by the Sigil Sisters :'''))))


	12. The Sermon

Sleep came very easy for Edelgard that night and she had to admit it was partly due to being pleasantly exhausted after bickering with Claude some more while trying not to scare Dimitri too much. Finally she had been able to vent some of the tension boiling inside her.

Claude had thanked her later that evening after Dimitri had left and the two of them were walking towards Edelgard’s room, saying that some ‘simple fun’ was the kind of distraction Dimitri could really use right now. She had felt a bit guilty she hadn’t made much of a conscious effort to make the boy feel at ease and couldn’t help but want to reach out to him more from now on. He seemed to be feeling a little lost and alone, something Edelgard could relate well to in her later teenage years.

It wasn’t just the animated conversation with the two that helped Edelgard sleep, the ring also definitely did wonders for Edelgard, as the comfortable and by now familiar warmth immediately spread though her body once she had her fingers around it.

Terribly embarrassing, but she gladly suffered the dent in her pride, telling herself that the benefits were simply too good to let slide.

Next morning she has Hubert knocking on her door, saying there was a man telling him to go take her to the Archbishop’s sermon.

“He told me to ‘treat you right in his stead,” Hubert says thinly and gives her a suspicious glance. “Is there… anything I should know?”

Edelgard groans, having forgotten entirely about Claude and the damage he could do on a whim. “No, please. That’s just Claude, he does that. Somehow both really obnoxious and elusive depending on what suits him best. He insisted he’d be my friend before you arrived, but he was gone the past week.”

Hubert makes a sour face. “But ­ _I’m_ your friend,” he mopes. “And he knows things, more than I do. I don’t like it.”

He gets an exasperated sigh for his words and Edelgard wonders if she’s going to be in between them from now on as they play tug of war with her.

“Sounds like you got yourself some competition then,” she grins playfully, hoping to take away his tension. “Though as I told him, I can have more than one friend. Oh, but be careful not to get too upstaged in the knowing things department, he likes knowing things too.”

“I will do just that, I shall not be outmatched by that buffoon,” Hubert says lowly and Edelgard has to suppress a chuckle, knowing by the way he clenches his fist he’s silently plotting already to fight Claude in their shared shadows.

Hopefully it will be amusing.

For her that is.

* * *

“I wasn’t aware you had to attend the sermons,” Hubert says once they’re taking seats nearly at the front of the hall.

“I wasn’t either,” Edelgard says with an apologetic smile. “But then again I didn’t know they were being held as well.”

Hubert looks at her with both disappointment and pride for her lack of trying. “Impressive, and once again Lady Rhea let you get away with it.”

“I don’t think she noticed I never went to be honest,” Edelgard says as she turns over hear head to gaze at the gathering crowd sitting down behind her. “There are at least a hundred people here.”

“She noticed,” Hubert says under his breath. “I heard her complain about your absence several times,” he adds. “I simply thought you had an excuse that she didn’t agree with.”

The idea is oddly touching when Edelgard considers it is Rhea he’s talking about. Their Crest connection aside, the woman seems to put a lot of effort into Edelgard in her own convoluted way. Knowing Rhea, complaining is her way of expressing worry or rejection. “How did you overhear her talking that often though?” she asks Hubert with a raised eyebrow.

“Gathering knowledge,” is the curt response she gets as he shoots her a dark look. “For reasons.”

“Ah.” She refuses to indulge Hubert and ask anything more, he’s clearly enjoying his acts of defiant spying more than she’s willing to let him and it’s too early to hear about his schemes anyway.

Luckily she doesn’t have to make up an excuse for her lack of response because a moment later Lady Rhea takes the stage and a silence falls over the people who have gathered, with the last few hurriedly sitting down and ending their sentences in hushed whispers.

After her eyes dart over the people around her in the darkening room they land on Rhea, who is still magically illuminated from above.

At once Edelgard is no longer able to tear her eyes from the woman. Something radiates from her, her mere presence alone, which draws Edelgard in inexplicably. She can feel traces of magic and the surge of magic she feels reaching out to her let her know that Rhea is casting it.

With a hint of dread she realizes that she alone might just have a slightly different experience than the rest of the crowd.

Oh, no. Not her _alone._

Rhea’s eyes have found hers and Edelgard is helpless to do anything but keep their gaze. The thought of blinking is painful already.

There is an unidentifiable expression on the Archbishop’s face, especially as she’s putting a lot of effort in keeping her calm composure. There is a hint of worry and shock, making it clear Rhea didn’t expect Edelgard’s presence, nor that their magic would reach out to each other during a sermon. But Edelgard also sees something akin to… determination?

Does the Saint want to show off now that she has Edelgard in the crowd?

She doesn’t miss the small, pleased smile ghosting over Rhea’s lips before she breaks their eye contact, breaking into a greeting to the visitors, the smile never leaving.

Edelgard had been to _many_ sermons in her life yet never actually truly experienced one.

The Holy Words hold power, especially those of trained priests, bishops, pastors and most of all _Saints._ Magic which resonates with the other people throughout the room. It was explained to her that it was as everyone felt as if they were experiencing the same story but in the form of a song. Their emotions became more synchronized for the duration and at the end they always felt closer to both the Goddess and each other.

For the first sixteen years of Edelgard’s life she could only guess what that could feel like, as nothing ever resonated with her, all she could do was remember the songs and hope no one would feel the disturbance of her not actually using magic and being on the same wavelength as them. After her Crests had started doing… something, she had learned to feel bits and pieces of it, but it always remained a disorientating and exhausting experience for her. Her magic could never fully follow the ebb and flows the magic in the room did and it ended up feeling as if she was listening to a song where the sound got cut off every few seconds, which left her with an emptiness and a chaotic mood afterwards, along with a glimpse of warmth that never reached her.

Edelgard is now definitely sure Rhea is trying to impress her or proof some sort of point, what with the way she keeps ‘subtly’ glancing over, but this is also the first time her own magic willingly and gladly resonates, not with the crowd but directly to the woman possessing the source of her magic.

Edelgard quickly lets the vain hope go that the overwhelming sensations flooding into her mind and body are normal and it’s what everyone is experiencing when it becomes increasingly hard to remain aware of her own body, her skin and the sensations of her clothes over it, and instead all she can sense is Rhea and the emotions the woman is weaving into the air.

She’s not even actually reading any scriptures yet, the words of which are what usually radiates magic when other people read them, nor is she singing. No, she’s merely telling some story which she seems to have come up with herself.

Edelgard doesn’t hear a word of it, doesn’t get the context of it at all yet feels every emotion and every sensation behind it. It’s like a beautiful and emotional piece of music that holds no words, where you can hear the tragedy, love and sorrow in it yet it’s you who has to make a story to give them meaning.

At some point Rhea has actually begun reciting Holy Scriptures and now all Edelgard can think of is how warm, safe and content she feels as a soft sound escapes her lips.

“Are you alright?” comes the worried whisper from Hubert, making Edelgard jolt out of her bubble and regain some of her sight and hearing. “You look-”

“Tired,” Edelgard hastily finishes for him, the word coming out as she exhales. “Magic drains me so this is very tiring,” she explains, struggling to keep her voice under control and most of all, _quiet._ “But it’s not entirely unpleasant,” she adds, now keenly away she must have looked flustered and high out of her mind to Hubert before he got her attention.

“That… explains,” he says wryly, giving her another scrutinizing glance before looking ahead of him again. “At least try to seem less affected,” he mutters, giving her valuable insight on what kind of show she was making of herself alongside Rhea.

She forces herself to be aware of Hubert’s presence next to her at all times, helping her ground herself enough in reality she won’t just keel over or zone out and crash her head into the chair in front of her, while the rest of her mind idly dances along with Rhea’s words. The ring is pulsing against her chest in steady waves, making Edelgard wonder if it’s actually Rhea’s heartbeat she’s feeling, as magic often moves along with that as well.

Edelgard has lost the passage of time but she’s aware enough to be mentally present for the song, the way every sermon ends. She’s relieved when the song is one that’s common and fairly standard, one even Edelgard knows the lyrics to.

She’s much less relieved once she’s standing and singing alone when she realizes the song is a hymn to appease the Goddess, because her lovely red Crest seems to be very keen on interpreting it as if the hymn is being sung to _her,_ leaving her with an exhilarating feeling of power she most certainly hasn’t earned the right to feel.

But well… she _does_ have the Crest of the Goddess doesn’t she? It’s only fair she shares in some of the worship and fame Sothis gets.

Perhaps they should do this more often… she works really hard for these people doesn’t she? The least they can do is show their appreciation like this, though she’d prefer more people present.

Something tugs at her mind and almost on instinct her eyes fall on Rhea, who is gazing at her with a subtle sly grin on her face, making Edelgard realize that the rotten woman chose this song on purpose, knowing Edelgard’s Crest would likely be very taken with feeling as if it was being magically blessed by a crowd and try to play games with Edelgard’s mind as a result.

She should give voice to being embarrassed and betrayed like this and tries to glare at the Saint but instead she breaks into quiet laughter and ends up smiling at her, beaming because she feels too damn _happy._

To make things worse Rhea winks at her before averting her gaze and focusing on the crowd again.

For all the crude and out of touch things Edelgard has heard the Archbishop say and do she has to give it to her the woman knows how to entice and enamor her audience. All eyes are trained on her and no matter what, Rhea is the center-point around which all the magic swirls and glows, panning out into the hall as other people’s magic joins in, though Rhea remains the one who dictates how the magic is woven, not just with her use of magic but also with her body language, expression and voice.

The Saint isn’t dancing, not in the least, her clothing would hardly allow for a graceful dance. Still all of Rhea is movement, subtle but with grace as each small motion of her hands ties in perfectly with the way magic floods through the room.

Even without the magic of both Edelgard’s Crests messing with her feelings she can see the expertise and sheer skill behind every little movement from Rhea. It’s truly beautiful to behold and Edelgard finally begins to understand why everyone holds the woman in such high esteem. No one would doubt her words outside of a sermon if within one they just feel as age old truths, with love, meaning and understanding woven through them.

…Maybe she should become more of a devout believer, Edelgard muses to herself. Worshipping the Goddess and her Children isn’t so bad. She could spend some of the hours in her days in prayer or try and please Rhea…

Her thoughts feel jolted again when she feels what can only be thorough amusement bubbling into her mind through the ring and when Edelgard looks at Rhea –who is pretending not to notice her and refuses to even look in her direction- she can see the woman is struggling not to break into laughter.

That infuriating _witch._

The only thing Edelgard feels anger over is that she’s _still_ smiling herself and with ease she resigns herself to just let Rhea amuse herself with her little victory over Edelgard.

* * *

When the sermon has ended minutes later Edelgard has to catch her breath for several moments, forcing her thoughts back to normal and dismissing any silly notions of being a Goddess or wanting to spend her days in prayer from now on.

Hubert has given up on getting any information out of her for her odd behavior after several failed attempts to pry and has instead resorted to brood in silence while he comes up with his own conclusions.

Once he has sufficiently convinced her that her expression is ‘normal’ he helps her out of the benches and they make it to the side of the cathedral, walking down towards the exit.

“Miss von Hresvelg,” she hears behind her and isn’t at all surprised anymore. “How lovely to have you among us this morning,” Rhea says, sounding utterly pleased with herself.

“I bet you enjoyed it yes,” Edelgard mutters stubbornly before turning around and looking at Rhea with less contempt. “What a wonderful sermon, Lady Rhea,” she says, purposely a tad happier than she means it. “I was delighted, I hope you had a good time as well?” she chirps.

To her surprise Rhea _giggles,_ making the three nuns standing closely with her look at her with confusion. “Oh I had,” she says with a teasing lilt in her voice. “If only the people could feel how much I loved giving these.”

“I had an inkling,” Edelgard says dryly.

“Good,” Rhea beams at her. “Will you be attending more of my sermons?” she says, still teasing but with a sharper tone, almost as if it’s a challenge, or even to show Edelgard she has been defeated.

“I think I will yes,” Edelgard says and gives her a genuine smile. “I did enjoy it, my sincere apologies for having been inconvenient and couldn’t attend until now. I have missed something incredible all this time, it seems.

The Archbishop’s eyes widen slightly as she seems taken aback by Edelgard’s easy compliance for once, clearly having expected some sarcastic remark instead.

“I-I see,” she all but stammers, her tone high as she fails to keep her serene expression and looks almost startled. “I’m glad,” she adds much softer, making Edelgard’s heart skip a beat at the vulnerable tone in her voice.

With a start it occurs to Edelgard Rhea would never have been so easily affected by Edelgard, or even _noticed_ her, if it hadn’t been for their Crests.

It almost makes it worth it, if only because Rhea seemed to enjoy herself so much during the sermon just now.

Several important looking people have gathered around them, clearly wanting to speak to the Archbishop and not quite getting why she’s not being _productive_ and Edelgard watches Rhea hesitate for a moment before she resigns herself to tending to them. With a quick, polite goodbye Rhea departs and is immediately swarmed by the crowd they bombard her with compliments and questions about the coming day.

“I have several questions,” Hubert says intently as the both of them finally exit the cathedral.

“Mhm, seems Claude is ahead of you then,” Edelgard smirks, making Hubert scoff as he shoots her an insulted glace.

Feeling bad for her friend Edelgard decides to meet him halfway. “She tried to best me during the sermon, maybe vengeance for never having showed up before, but she seemed a little taken aback just now that instead of embarrassed I didn’t mind it, was kind of fun really,” she says, trying not to smile too much.

“That sounds… awfully playful for the likes of her,” Hubert says with a displeased look.

“The more you know,” Edelgard laughs, though the idea of Rhea being playful, of feeling free and at ease enough to do so, is strangely charming.

“I bet she had ulterior motives,” Hubert sneers.

“Yes, _embarrassing_ me,” Edelgard tells him sternly. She can’t imagine anything else, aside from the deeper magical aspects she purposely neglected to mention.

Hubert purses his lips. “Hmm, slandering your name does sound something akin to the likes of her.”

“ _Hubert,_ leave her be. She didn’t do anything so don’t talk about her like that,” Edelgard chides him impulsively, somehow annoyed that there is this… interference between Rhea and Hubert, that distrust from Hubert she cannot take away. His feelings are understandable, especially regarding his views on religion, but she wishes he wouldn’t be so suspicious of Rhea personally.

She wishes he could see the Archbishop like _she_ does.

Oh… but that requires an uncomfortably intimate Crest connection neither of which can speak of freely and is also quite likely addling her mind when it comes to think of Rhea objectively.

On the other side, she would never have gotten to talk with Rhea so much if it wasn’t for their Crests. The woman would have never given her the light of day and Edelgard would have seen her as just another person holding a title in the name of the church, a barrier she had never been able to see through with others.

But Instead of fancy title Edelgard has been forced to deal with the infuriating but amusing chaotic disaster hiding underneath that title, along with apparently genuine power and expertise in magic and even an oddly mischievous side.

Hubert had been looking curiously at her, which she only notices when she glances at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly before some of the tension in his face disappears. “I’m sorry, I cannot help but be suspicious of her but perhaps I ought to so with a more… open mind, instead of always assuming she has ill intentions.”

He gets a pat on the back, which startles him to the point he needs to make an effort not to lose composure. “That’s a sure way to besting Claude,” Edelgard laughs. “But thank you,” she adds much softer. "It would make things a little less complicated, maybe.”

He doesn’t respond but she catches the slightly awkward look in his eyes and the smile on his lips, causing her to truly realize how much she trusts him, and he her in turn, willing to try and see things her way with just a few words from Edelgard.

It’s… nostalgic, to be this open and forward with her feelings.

They part way shortly after, when Hubert has walked her nearly completely to her first class –she needed his help dearly- before he hurried to make his own class in time.

As a student who was rather haphazardly thrown into the monastery and with no prior training they really just cobbled something together for her and as a result she doesn’t have that many classes until either she or someone else figures out what is to be done with her.

She can’t say she was all that pleased with being forced to attend without a clear goal in mind but even Edelgard can see the benefits of healing magic. Apparently Rhea had divulged to the teachers Edelgard was in the possession of a green Crest, and nothing more, so she was put in an extra course for older students who wished to learn it on the side.

Professor Manuela seems nice enough, within a few moment Edelgard senses the laid back nature of the woman and finds herself hoping that if the teacher doesn’t take the lessons too seriously she won’t notice –or comment- on Edelgard’s inevitable struggle to keep up with the rest.

She spends the first half of the lecture on introductions, mostly an introduction of herself and then on asking personal questions to her students but when the door opens Manuela looks up and smiles.

“Ah, there you are. Now we can start on seeing everyone’s skills,” she says as she greets the woman who enters.

Edelgard freezes as she feels her heart stop, because… because…

“Edie?” says Dorothea when her eyes go over the class and land on Edelgard. “You… you’re here?”

“You two know each other?” Manuela asks curiously.

“Yes, she was- i _s_ my best frie- my friend. From long ago,” Dorothea responds, fumbling over her words as she can’t seem to comprehend that Edelgard really is here, and struggles to be so suddenly confronted with how their friendship had gone sour.

She glances nervously at Edelgard, who is only making things worse by openly staring back without being able to move a muscle, let alone make a sound.

“Oh, that’s lovely. You always pick them out Thea,” Manuela smiles. “I’ve been told this one is just as lively as you,” she says with a nod to Edelgard. “Well aren’t you lucky, having your old friend be my teachers assistant, and soon to be a teacher all on her own.”

Edelgard fails to find her words and the only thing coming back to her is shame because all sorts of ugly feelings are boiling up inside her. She should be elated to see her friend and be impressed and happy for her that she managed to become a teacher.

But all she feels is jealousy, inadequacy.

What has she been doing with her life the past years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dancer Rhea.


	13. Winning the battle but losing the war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard has a rough day, makes it rough for everyone else as a result.

Edelgard had secretly hoped professor Manuela would go on with her class as normal so she could figure out what the hell she was supposed to say to Dorothea in the meantime but sadly the professor is incredibly excited for her assistant to have met an old friend such as this and announces a break in order for the two of them to catch up a little.

Dorothea catches Edelgard unaware in a crushing hug and nearly make her topple from her char the moment she’s dismissed. “Edie!” she yells as she pulls Edelgard to her feet. “It’s really you, how are you here?”

Edelgard returns the hug and feels a little of the ice in her heart melt when she does. “I don’t exactly know,” she admits sheepishly. “A lot of accidents and strange circumstances I suppose.”

“That’s so you,” Dorothea laughs. “Only you would end up here accidentally. Do you know how long it took us to get admitted?”

Immediately Edelgard feels even more miserable than she did before. _She_ got send here as a last resort, as punishment, and she had been nothing but ungrateful for it, but here Dorothea was, her friend who’s single mother always struggled to make ends meet, who managed to become a teacher in the place Edelgard saw as punishment. “Us?” she asks quietly.

“Oh, Petra is here too!” her old friend tells her excitedly. Petra, whom Edelgard remembers teasing for her language barrier, who she taught the wrong words on purpose as a child. The girl had been nearly fluent the last time they’d spoken but Edelgard had still felt guilty in later years.

“Is she studying to be a teacher too?”

“No, she already is one. Foreign politics and culture, because of her home country. She’s teaching more economic orientated students. You should have seen her, she aced every exam about two years ago. I got to tag along because of my experience with music, theatre and song.” Dorothea smiles proudly. “I suppose after all these years my passions paid off, I never thought I could combine it with magic so easily.”

As a child Edelgard hadn’t understood why her two friends couldn’t come to some of the places she and her mother went and when her mother tried to explain Edelgard had found the whole thing puzzling. Only after things started going bad for her did she understand what it truly meant to be a noble. In high school she would have been kicked out much earlier if she didn’t have a title to her name and a father to pay for her tuition because her grades certainly hadn’t been worth it, the years after she didn’t even have a job. The doctor recommended a walk a day when she’d been at her worst and that had been it. No stress for food and all the luxuries she had needed right at hand.

Always she’d fall and find yet another safety net waiting underneath the last, Garreg Mach had been yet another one.

Petra and Dorothea had come here on their merits, because they had worked hard, Edelgard was send here because she hadn’t done anything.

She swallows and feels a something heavy in her stomach. What is she supposed to say? She doesn’t have anything of note to speak of in since she was sixteen.

Had it really been so long? Nine years since she last saw her friends. Was she really that old already?

“Are you alright?” Dorothea asks, looking at Edelgard with concern.

“I… yes. I’m sorry,” Edelgard breathes out. “I… I don’t know why I’m here,” she says weakly. “I’m proud of you,” she smiles but the panic just rises inside her. “I’m not proud of me.” She’s mumbling at this point and can no longer make eye contact. “Please don’t ask.”

“Edelgard…” Dorothea falls silent for a moment. “I… I won’t. I’m sorry, I was being impolite. I… I’ve always wanted to apologize, for not having been a proper friend when you needed me most. At the time I didn’t know what to do and I let you go.”

Her cheerful friend now looks as miserable as Edelgard and unsure of herself as well.

“Don’t.” Edelgard responds with more of an edge to her voice than she anticipated.

Her mother.

Her _mother._

She misses her so much. For so long now Edelgard has been forcing herself not to let her mind wander, to not aimlessly hope her mother would come back one day, that or at least _some_ knowledge of what happened that night.

The scars on her body sometimes feel like the only proof something did transpire.

In a way it had been a relief her father had slipped up and revealed he knew something. At least it had meant her mother was still out there, at least _something_ was going on.

“Just don’t,” she repeats. Her blood is thrumming loudly in her ears now and suddenly her old friend feels almost threatening. Only a few words from Dorothea can send Edelgard dangerously deep back into a past she’s been struggling to move on from.

A past that on some days just catches up with her.

“Please just leave me be,” she says and immediately regrets her words. Dorothea’s presence had cut through her like a knife. Here in this isolated bubble full of new things and _Rhea_ and all these people who had no idea who she was, who had no idea of the pain Edelgard experienced, of those lonely year in high school where nothing had made sense and nothing she did had mattered.

It had felt safe and now her past suddenly caught up with her, that and the realization Edelgard hadn’t moved on from that fateful night at all. It hurt deeply.

Much to her agony Dorothea looks utterly defeated as she nods. “I will,” she whispers before stepping back. “But please know I’m here for you,” she smiles reassuringly as she turns around.

Edelgard catches the way the professor looks at her assistant with concern and she feels very close to running from class entirely, it’s only because Professor Manuela calls everyone to attention that Edelgard feels too seen to do so.

The rest of the class is a muted blur to her as she stares into nothing. She politely declines the offer to perform magic as she feels her own thrumming in her veins and would most certainly just light things on fire in her current mood.

Afterwards she makes a beeline for her room, the moment the door closes behind her tears well up in her eyes and immediately she knows it will be a nightmare night.

As a result she stays up for nearly the entire night, glad she brought a black pencil and paper so she can pass the time with sketching.

Edelgard wishes she could remember her mother’s face well enough to draw her.

An hour or two past midnight she finds herself smiling, drawing pictures of the insects her mother used to keep instead, basing them on the books she brought with her that have sketches of them inside as well.

Everything hurts a bit less after that.

Only in the early hours of the morning does she feel sufficiently exhausted that she’s sure she’ll sleep through any nightmares and finally crawls into bed. With her fingers clasped tightly around the ring once more she yawns and falls asleep wondering if Lady Rhea will somehow sense she didn’t sleep well and give her hell for it the following morning.

It’s not Rhea at her door giving her hell though, it’s _Hubert._

She’s grouchy and sleepy while she tries and fails to persuade him to let her skip breakfast, with him insisting ‘it’s the most important meal of the day.’

So several minutes later she’s there, but not mentally. Mentally she’s already back in bed and not thinking about the class with yet another professor she has after lunch about _Crests_ because she’s not ready for that.

Hubert cannot stop her from going back to her room and nap because, unlike her, he does have classes before lunch, so she goes to do exactly that.

He’s there again exactly ten minutes before lunchtime to drag her out of bed once more. Her argument she needs more than ten minutes to get ready isn’t very valid to him but he begrudgingly gives her a few extra to at least comb her hair and wash her face again because she looked like a mess after her nap.

“Won’t Lady Rhea be upset you didn’t see her sermon this morning?” he asks as they walk over to the dining hall.

Edelgard stops in her tracks. “Oh Goddess I said that I’d go didn’t I? I forgot there was one this morning too. Hubert why didn’t you make me go?” she asks exasperatedly.

“ _Me?”_ he sputters. “You were the one loudly declaring you were going back and that nothing was stopping you.”

“Yes because I didn’t have any classes, I didn’t mean _that,_ ” she counters.

“I thought you meant the sermon,” he says with a sour expression. “I knew I should have made you go,” he mutters under his breath.

“You didn’t, I can take care of myself,” she responds defensively.

“Yes, until Lady Rhea comes to save you…no _us,_ miraculously yet once again,” he says accusingly, though there is a smile tugging on his lips.

Edelgard decides not to grace that with a response and simply fumes until they’ve made it to the line for their food.

Once their seated Edelgard almost runs again when she sees Dorothea and Petra four tables over.

Goddess, they really had grown up so much. Tall and hair that didn’t make them look like teens anymore. Was that a tattoo underneath Petra’s eye? Women didn’t have tattoos in Adrestia… at least not nobles and certainly not on places as visible as their face.

But Edelgard vaguely recalls they did do it in Brigid, where Petra was from, and that each tattoo had a special meaning there. For a moment all of the ice in her stomach is gone and she just wants to walk over to her friend and talk about her looks, but then Petra waves at her, an empathic smile on her face as Dorothea struggles not to look awkward and the spell is broken.

“Nothing, please,” she says as Hubert shoots her a curious glance.

She feels the presence behind her before she realizes _whose_ presence it is.

“Miss von Hresvelg,” comes the curt voice of the Archbishop.

“Lady Rhea,” Edelgard greets as she looks over her shoulder. Oh Rhea does _not_ look happy.

“I see we decided to just reverse our day and night rhythm and simply sleep through the day?” she says and her voice is _just_ high enough the pitch ticks Edelgard off.

“ _We_ didn’t decide anything, Lady Rhea,” she retorts and watches Hubert go stiff beside her. _“I_ simply had a rough night and took a nap in my free time.”

“You missed my sermon,” Rhea rightfully points out and Edelgard feels a stab of guilt. Was that hurt in the Saint’s voice? She had promised hadn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles as an apology. “I’ll come to the next one.”

“I want you to come to my office now,” Rhea says curtly. “Now,” she repeats impatiently.

“What? No,” is Edelgard’s immediate response. “I’m having lunch and I have class soon.” O _h no,_ Dorothea and Petra are watching. Edelgard is already beyond stressed and still running on a total of maybe five hours of sleep, she just _cannot_ deal with an irrationally crouch Archbishop either, and she really doesn’t want to be seen being dragged to her office by her old friends either.

“Now.”

“No.”

“…I’m not going to ask again.”

“Alright then.”

“…”

“…”

“ _Now,_ Miss von Hresvelg.”

Edelgard can’t help herself. “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask again?” she asks sweetly despite her inner turmoil not making her come across as very confident. Beside her Hubert is going pale as he stares hard at his potato salad.

“I’m _not_ asking, brat,” Rhea bites at her.

That’s it, the maybe three cells in Edelgard’s body promptly decide that going with Rhea definitely is not an option anymore. Stubbornly she takes a bite from her own salad and makes it a point to chew unnecessarily long on the tomato slice.

A voice inside Edelgard is screaming at her to comply or to explain herself but she’s too choked up and too tense to do anything but ignore Rhea and just piss her off even more.

Rhea loses her patience at the same moment Edelgard does.

“ _Brat,”_ she hisses with a voice so full of annoyed spite something cracks inside Edelgard.

“Blow me, Rhea.”

Beside her Hubert wheezes in agony.

That’s very kind of him, Edelgard belatedly thinks to herself, as the at least seven strangers who heard her say that have gone completely silent as they stare at her, some with their mouths open.

Lady Rhea too seems to have been stunned into silence and Edelgard makes a quiet prayer as she prepares for her imminent death that is sure to follow as Rhea’s wrath will come down on her.

Bravely she turns her head to look at Rhea.

…And realizes Rhea has absolutely no idea what Edelgard just said. Oh Goddess no, the woman seems absolutely confused.

“Blow what?” she asks, looking bewildered and unsure of herself.

Edelgard makes yet another prayer because Rhea will surely not let her live through this humiliating experience for the both of them once –and Edelgard knows she will- she finds out just what it means Edelgard just said.

“Nothing,” she says hurriedly. “Just go,” she says and waves dismissively in an attempt to diffuse the tension and maybe have Rhea safe face just a little before she comes back to murder Edelgard.

By the way Hubert makes yet another strained noise she can tell she messed up with the little wave, and probably her words too.

“…Alright,” Rhea says bemusedly and just… walks off with a puzzled look on her features.

Oh _no._

“Do you know what they call this?” Hubert asks her quietly once Rhea is out of sight.

“Incredibly stupid, bordering on having a death wish, dumb, rude, terribly inappropriate and detrimental to my future?” Edelgard responds dryly yet with a crack in her tone.

“All of that too,” Hubert nods. “But no, it’s called winning the battle yet losing the war.”

Edelgard rests her head on the table and groans. “You’re right.”

“She’s going to find out what you just said the hard way, you know.”

“I know.”

“She’s going to ask someone and then come marching back.”

“I _know,_ Hubert.”

* * *

She’s exactly nine minutes further and _so_ close to having finished her lunch so she could have disappeared from sight and maybe wait out her death in the comfort of her bed when she feels Rhea’s searing hot anger distantly, homing in on her at alarming speed.

“Miss von Hresvelg, my office _now!”_ Rhea drawls, causing Edelgard’s head to jolt to the side, catching sight of not only Rhea but a _very_ amused looking Manuela who was half-heartedly following Rhea until she found Edelgard.

By the looks of it the Saint is very close to slapping Edelgard, Crest connection or not. She’s flustered and fuming and oh Goddess Edelgard struggles not to break into nervous laughter because everything about this is just so bad and a little funny if it hadn’t been _her_ who fucked now _,_ but mostly just incredibly bad. Why did she say that?

Petra and Dorothea are staring again…

They might not have head Edelgard the first time, they certainly hear Rhea now.

“Why?” she hears herself say with a polite smile, immediately cursing herself for not just standing up and doing as Lady Rhea pleases for _once._

“Because _blow me.”_

Hubert makes a pained noise once again and looks at Edelgard with pleading eyes.

Edelgard almost wants to beg him to stop her but instead she smiles sweetly at Rhea. “Well, if you insist,” she grins and gets up with as much feline grace as she can muster.

Rhea blinks once, twice before going pale. “You know _damn_ well that’s not what I meant, you insolent little brat and Goddess help me if you do not follow me right now there will be consequences young lady!” she hisses, yet looks too embarrassed for Edelgard to feel threatened any longer.

With a huff she turns around and stomps off, not even looking if Edelgard is following her.

Edelgard has half a mind to just not follow the Saint and wait to see what would happen once she’d find out. Just for fun

Hubert pushes her back. “Go, you absolute idiot,” he tells her sternly.

“Fine, fine,” Edelgard sighs before making a small sprint and catching up to Rhea.

She thinks she can let her fear of being killed for her crime go now, hoping her own survival skills wouldn’t have let her follow the Archbishop with a smile on her face as she’s doing now.

…Thinks, that is.

 _Hopes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really getting the hang of this foreshadowing when I *checks notes* made some ooc comment 8 chapters ago about Edelgard learning what blow me means from the servants for this top tier comedy part.
> 
> But I like to think all incarnations of Edelgard can swear really well, her more 3H version just trained herself not to.
> 
> Also a minor spoiler but Rhea just wanted to see Edelgard because she got an update from her mom :C Booo


	14. Did you really tell the Archbishop to...

Rhea makes Edelgard enter the small hall into her office and vigorously ushers her forward before slamming it shut and following Edelgard into the spacious room.

Edelgard’s nerve-induced amusement had quickly evaporated as she had been struggling to keep up with Rhea, who had been steadily marching right towards her chambers. The whole situation was less comical once she realized just how angry the Archbishop truly was.

“ _What_ is wrong with you?” Rhea hisses furiously, her tone demanding.

“Nothing,” Edelgard mutters stiffly and awkwardly glances away. “I’m sorry, I had a rough day and I snapped,” she tries.

“You’re sorry?” Rhea echoes in an incredulous tone before snapping, “You _dare_ insult me like that in front of others and then mumble me a weak apology once there is no one around to here and you think I’ll just… thank you for it and forgive you?” Rhea’s eyes are blazing and she looks beyond angry, trembling and visibly making an effort to keep her composure.

Inwardly Edelgard can feel the Saint’s magic pulse, the ring thrumming hotly against her skin. “I would say sorry in front of other people too,” Edelgard defends herself with but even she thinks her words sound weak.

“I gave you the opportunity to apologize yet you simply mocked me once more.” In one movement Rhea makes her way over to the chair behind her desk, sitting down on it with a weary sigh. “Why?” she asks Edelgard. “Just why did you do that? What have I done to you as of late you’d feel the need to mock me?”

“I… nothing,” Edelgard says and immediately feels at a loss of words. Rhea looks more hurt than angry as well, more human than a title. “I really did have a bad day…” she trails off weakly.

“That’s not _enough,_ Hresvelg girl. I am the Archbishop, I have a reputation to uphold and you just trample all over it each and every time.” Tired eyes meet Edelgard’s own and the gaze is unrelenting. “You do realize I could have you banished or imprisoned for such an act of heresy? In fact, people will wonder why I am not doing such a thing. You broke the law yet leave me to deal with the damage once more,” she says pointedly and with an edge to her voice that makes a cold shiver run down Edelgard’s spine.

“Sorry,” Edelgard stammers yet again and only now does she truly begin to understand the weight of her actions. “It’s this Crest connection,” she explains in frustration. “It makes things feel… familiar between us and in the heat of the moment I forget just who you are.”

A hollow chuckle comes from Rhea who looks at Edelgard with more hurt than Edelgard has seen before on her features. “That’s nice for you,” she says with just a hint of spite, “But _I_ cannot forget who I am. I am my titles and my reputation. If I do not act as people expect me to they’ll doubt my position.”

The words sound utterly lonely coming from Rhea, who seems to be feeling miserable as she sighs once more. “Just go,” she says and waves her hand dismissively. “I only called you here to make it seem as if I was going to give you some sort of repercussion but I simply do not care right now. Just go and I’ll figure something out… again.”

“No,” Edelgard tries uselessly. “It’s my fault, I want to make up for it.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“…I’m really sorry.”

Rhea glances tiredly at Edelgard and looks unimpressed by her vain attempts. “Your apologies are meaningless.”

“Then tell me what to do,” Edelgard pleads.

“You could have come to my sermon this morning and not give me trouble for once.”

The words hurt and make her feel even more guilty. Her memories of the morning before flash through her mind, of how happy Rhea seemed with her presence alone. Now she looks as if she doesn’t care enough for Edelgard to look at her.

Did Rhea truly care that Edelgard had been there?

The idea alone that she doesn’t hurts even more, that Rhea doesn’t care anymore, not as much as Edelgard does.

…Perhaps she’s hurt, and you cannot be hurt if you do not care, right?

Either way, something determined settles in Edelgard, no matter what angle she looks at this from, she needs to do something to jolt Rhea out of this.

“Lady Rhea?” she asks, her tone meant to draw the woman’s attention.

Rhea looks up at her with a weary and sad expression. “What?”

“Have I disappointed you?” Edelgard asks sincerely, already knowing the answer.

Rhea’s eyes go wide and for a moment she looks at Edelgard with confusion. “Yes, you have disappointed me by saying that for all to hear. I need to keep you close and I cannot feasibly do that if you keep treating me like that in front of others,” Rhea says and Edelgard can hear the grief in the tone of her voice. “You made a promise,” Rhea reminds her, her voice so frail and sad tears nearly well up in Edelgard’s eyes. “You told me you wouldn’t draw so much attention to yourself yet now you do it to us both.”

There is truth in that, Edelgard realizes with a start. After Hubert Rhea had told her she’d let her be free, even protect her freedom, but in exchange for that Edelgard needed to keep her reputation clean. Now people would surely behind her back again _and_ expect Rhea to do something about it.

“You’re right,” she admits. “I made things difficult for you. But Lady Rhea, I swear I will make it up,” she tells the Saint with utmost sincerity and devotion.

In her green eyes Edelgard sees a glimmer of hope, perhaps even faith. Does Rhea trust her with such a thing?

Does Edelgard trust Rhea?

She doesn’t have to think about that long.

“Lady Rhea I shall make amends for my transgression, I will give it my best effort and won’t give up until you feel better.”

To Edelgard’s utter relieve Rhea chuckles and flashes Edelgard a small smile, the one that always makes Edelgard’s heart flutter. With a start she realizes just how easy she gets affected by Rhea, a tell of just how deep her newfound care runs in her.

Edelgard is too afraid to look that deeper… for now. That and her priorities are different currently.

“Very well,” Rhea smiles and oh she looks so adorable, open and even fragile, afraid Edelgard might say the wrong words next.

“Then I hope I shall not disappoint you, Lady Rhea,” she smiles awkwardly, slightly flustered from her newfound conclusion about that she cares. This is going to require some dedication then.

After saying her goodbyes she turns to go.

“You won’t,” comes the determined voice from the woman sitting by the desk.

A threat? Or confidence?

With Rhea it can be both at once.

Though Edelgard can’t tell if it’s confidence that she will fail or succeed in her apology.

“And please don’t make a scene,” Rhea adds cautiously.

“I won’t,” Edelgard says with more trust in herself than she really has.” I’ll make sure only you and me will be involved, no singing an apology for a crowd.”

“Good, now go.”

Rhea is always so delicate with her goodbyes, Edelgard thinks to herself and only manages not to grin.

As she opens the door she turns and nods at the Saint, who is putting an effort in making it seem as if Edelgard has already left both her chambers and thoughts, yet her eyes land on Edelgard for the briefest of moments anyway.

When she closes the door Edelgard smiles.

…And subsequently groans as she just made some _very_ big promises and has no idea how she’ll live up to them.

Sure, she’ll just apologize to a whole Saint out of all people, without making a scene that is. Edelgard is guessing that Rhea means to not do anything publicly, lest Rhea is left to pick up the pieces again.

Not that she was looking forward to humiliating herself like that but it would have been straightforward.

Now she’s going to have to resort to complex tactics, do some shadow apologizing.

Which means she needs _Hubert,_ now. She can’t imagine Hubert to be an apology connoisseur, he seems to be the kind of person to just not get into a situation where he has to do such a thing, but Edelgard knows he’s good at the more subtle social interactions, the ones she might have neglected a bit as she trampled her way through high school.

Only half sure Hubert doesn’t have classes – his schedule is nearly twice as full as hers but still not a week full of classes by a long shot- she knocks on his door about ten minutes later.

“If it’s you then don’t come in,” comes his voice from the other side.

“It’s me,” she responds and opens the unlocked door.

Hubert sighs. “If you’re here to ask me how to piss the Archbishop off even more, then congratulations, I could never top that. I don’t think I’d dare to honestly, I’m not that brave,” he says bitterly. “Or stupid, really,” he adds sourly. Finally looking at her, something akin to concern settles in his features. “I can’t believe she lets you walk free already… or at all. Tell me, what was your punishment?”

“Oh uh, nothing,” Edelgard says sheepishly, finally realizing how odd that is. The monastery is known to be strict and dish out punishments for even the smallest amount of heresy, yet here Edelgard is, free as a bird. Hell, she’d gotten into trouble in both high school and her local church for insulting a peer in a way more polite way than she’d just insulted the Child of the Goddess. “But I’m here to ask you how I could best apologize to her if that helps?” she tries with an awkward smile.

“…You told the most holy woman on the planet to go blow you –which she didn’t understand and only humiliated herself further, may I add- and all she told you was to tell her you’re sorry?” Hubert says with raised eyebrows and a voice full of disbelief.

“No. She told me not to bother and I told her I would bother.”

Hubert sighs again. “Wonderful.” He narrows his eyes and glares. “Just what is it with you that her mere presence makes you draw a target on your back bigger than the cathedral at Garreg Mach… and then what is it with her that she helps you paint said target and then _doesn’t aim for it,”_ he tells her with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Soul mates,” Edelgard teases him and pokes out her tongue before taking seat on his bed.

“Gross.”

“Yes, but in all seriousness, I do wish to apologize to her. Properly,” Edelgard insists.

“Have you considered succumbing to your knees and grovel in the dirt as you offer her your deepest prayers and beg her not to be dragged to hell?” her friend quips.

Edelgard pouts. _“Hubert,”_ she hisses and flusters at the humiliating thought. “She told me not to make a scene,” she adds as she glances away bashfully. “That counts as making a scene.”

“Well,” he says, mulling over her request more seriously as he takes seat on the end of his bed. “She is the richest, holiest, most powerful and influential woman in all of Fodlan, not even her siblings come close,” he begins with crossed arms, making Edelgard pale with every subsequent word. She really ought to remember at least _one_ of those when looking Rhea in the eyes. “The Archbishop could probably buy your great-grandfather’s palace if she felt so inclined,” he nods.

“Great,” she groans, “So I’ll just ask him to fix things for me.”

She gets a frown as a reward for her joke. “You’re not taking this seriously,” Hubert tells her accusingly.

“I am,” Edelgard insists. “I just feel a bit clueless as to what to do.”

“Well, let’s take it back to basics. Why do you want to apologize?” he asks.

“No reason, just because.”

“That’s just not true, no one apologizes without wanting to gain something.”

“Hubert I do _not_ have ulterior motives,” Edelgard fumes and feels embarrassed at the very thought.

“Oh but you do,” Hubert tells her plainly and Edelgard swears she sees the tiniest of grins on his lips but it’s gone before she can tell him off. “It doesn’t have to be a selfish motivation mind you,” he explains. “But you wouldn’t feel the need to apologize without some sort of thing you _care_ for. Be it self-preservation, regret, guilt or more… sycophantic motives.”

“Guilt then,” Edelgard settles on. “Just, I thought she was mostly angry at first but she was just _hurt,_ Hubert. She didn’t punish me only because she was too hurt to bother.”

“Odd,” her friend muses. “That would do wonders to lift my spirits.”

Edelgard kicks him with her foot, making a half-baked attempt to be polite and not get her shoe on the bed in the process.

“Ow,” he winces though doesn’t look very hurt. “Fine, what I’m trying to say is that she has everything she wants and everyone here does her bidding. If you want your apology to be genuine you’ll have to do something so surprising she doesn’t expect it.”

“But she told me not to make a scene,” Edelgard repeats.

“You won’t have to, all it has to be is _personal,”_ Hubert points out, sounding a bit out of it because she’s not following.

“Personal.” Edelgard doesn’t like the sound of that one bit.

“Yes, something she cannot buy herself or order you to do, that or ordering you to do it would defeat the point. That’s probably why she send you away, no? She couldn’t imagine you’d care enough to try.”

When Edelgard turns to look miserable at his words Hubert seems visibly pleased with himself.

“Thought so,” he says smugly. “So what are you going to do?”

“What?” Edelgard quips. “I thought you were going to help me?”

Hubert looks exasperated and glares. “No, that means it would be _my_ apology and I didn’t do anything wrong.”

They end up bickering about the nature of apologizing for quite some time, with Hubert insisting ‘it has to come from her otherwise it’s meaningless’ and Edelgard whining about it until Hubert more or less kicks her out, saying that unlike her he did attend his classes and now has work to do.

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath. “I forgot I had class.”

“Don’t worry about it, I went to your professor and explained to him the Archbishop had summoned you, he seemed very impressed,” Hubert explains and then laughs to himself.

“Lifesaver,” Edelgard smiles as she hugs him, pointedly ignoring his amusement. “You really have my back, I wouldn’t know where I’d be without you.”

“And isn’t that ironic,” Hubert retorts. “Between the two of us I thought it would be me committing heresy around here, but no it’s _you.”_ He taps her forehead accusingly. “Seriously, don’t do that again, you could have been arrested.”

“I... uh, yes she mentioned something of the sorts,” Edelgard admits sheepishly.

“I mean it, one day soon she’ll have no choice but to arrest you,” her friend tells her sternly. “Even if for some reason she doesn’t want to.”

“She mentioned that too,” is her dry response and promptly gets tapped on the forehead again.

“What is it with her that brings out the worst in you,” Hubert sighs.

“It’s not the worst!” Edelgard is quick to defend herself. “It’s just not the best either. Oh, I don’t know, at times she almost feels like a friend and then she just bosses me around and acts all controlling, that combined with the effects of our shared Crests is really frustrating. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Hubert turns to look very tired. “Only you would have the guts to complain the Archbishop isn’t being a good friend to you,” he complains but then seems to ease up a little. “You should tell her that, she seems _very_ invested in what you think of her, maybe actually telling her would help her blow of some steam and figure out how to approach you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He taps her chest and raises a single eyebrow. “Don’t think I didn’t notice her little stunt at yesterday’s sermon.”

“Uh.” Edelgard’s cheeks go dark at once when she remembers how that felt.

“That’s what I thought,” her awful friends smiles victoriously. “And don’t complain so much, I’m trying to make things easier for her, which goes wholly against my instincts mind you.” He shrugs. “Who knows, maybe you are being a good influence on me,” he adds and then breaks into obnoxious chuckling. “No, never mind.”

“ _Hubert.”_

“No, don’t even try,” he laughs. “Now go before I lose the ability to focus. I’ll come pick you up before tomorrow’s sermon and I expect results,” he chides her with a smile and gently ushers her towards the door.

“No Hubert, _no._ Allow me to explain,” Edelgard protests as lets herself be walked towards the door regardless, finding herself sulking when he closes it a moment later, quickly giving up just making her way to her own room instead.

Pompous bastard and his awful condescending sense of humor.

Only once she slams the door of her own room behind her does she realize she still has no idea what to do. Sighing exasperatedly, she sinks down on her chair and stares at the wall.

Something personal.

Something money can’t buy.

Ahw fuck, she’s going to have to get creative isn’t she?

Nearly all of Edelgard is objecting to her newfound inspiration but her guilt and promise to make things up easily win from all the loud voices that are screaming to protect her pride. She exactly has one talent and that’s drawing so she quickly resorts to that.

Oh Goddess what is she getting herself into…

Now, what to draw?

Well, there is that one thing both the Saint and Edelgard had a mutual interest in and Rhea has a wall full of the little critters.

It’s been a while since she drew those, or made someone something for that matter.

After concluding that she really has no choice but to be brave and make a fool of herself, feeling she has to humble herself in front of the Archbishop if she wants her apology to be genuine, she rummages around in her drawers only to realize she has no colored pencils.

Moments later she’s outside, marching through the sunshine in an attempt to find the library first try.

She doesn’t succeed and instead is treated to a lot of glances and stares. It takes her quite some time to remember it’s not because of the usual things, her hair color or the Crest-related rumors circulating about her, but solely because of what she said to Rhea, though the hair probably helps her be recognized easily.

“Did you really tell the Archbishop to blow you?” a nun asks her without a single shred of hesitation as Edelgard walks by her and two other woman.

“Yes… _no._ Please leave me be,” she stammers, faltering in her step before picking up pace again and deciding to ignore the glares she receives.

She lasts about half a minute before she gets asked again.

And again.

And again…

It’s been six times someone asks her the same question before she has found the library, where she offers a small prayer to the Goddess once she closes the big doors behind her, immediately adding an apology to that when she realizes whose child she insulted.

“Do you have any colored pencils?” she asks the very bored looking young man behind the counter.

“No?” he says and gives her a questioning look as he glances up from his book, struggling to do so. “We have books here, not pencils.”

Ah, right. You cannot really rent out pencils. Why did she even come here?

“Do you know where I might get them?” she tries anyway.

“The market?” he wonders out loud, clearly making an effort to be invested enough in her issue to consider her options.

“Market?” she repeats and looks suprised.

“Yes?” he yawns.

“What market?”

“The one in town?” He returns to his book as if the conversation is over but Edelgard isn’t having it.

“Town?” she says, drawing his attention again. “I can go into town?”

“Yes?” he says again, now almost looking nervous still not letting him go. “Just be back before curfew,” the man explains, focusing on his book again before quickly meeting her eyes once more. “That’s at eight by the way.”

“Oh.” She should have realized this sooner. It makes sense too, perhaps she’s been treating Garreg Mach more like a prison than a monastery and school. “Thank you,” she mumbles before turning to make her leave.

“Wait.”

She looks back over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Did you really tell the Archbishop to blow you?”

“Oh fuck off.”

“That’s a yes then,” he grins. “Good for you.”

She can’t help but break into a smile, nodding before walking away. Perhaps this guy isn’t so bad. Not at all interested in the dramatic but just enough that he heard the rumors from his quiet library.

Speaking of, as she makes her way to her chamber in order to pick up money she gets asked the same question two more times, followed by thrice more while heading to the gates.

“Did you really tell the Archbishop to go fuck herself?” Claude asks her _just_ when the gates are in sight, appearing out of thin air as usual.

“That’s not what I said, Claude.”

“No but for once I didn’t have to consult the rumor mill to hear exactly what you said,” he laughs. “That was really brave of you,” he teases her with a knowing grin.

“Not you too,” she groans.

“Are you making a run for it?” he asks her as they near the gate. “She’s with me,” he tells the guards, who only nod at him and promptly seem to forget she’s even there once he does.

“No I’m going shopping.”

“At a time like this?” he wonders.

“I’m buying supplies because I’m trying to apologize,” Edelgard explains as she shoots him an annoyed glace. “Must you?”

“Don’t mind me,” he shrugs. “But that’s good, very good.”

Edelgard stops in her tracks and eyes him cautiously. “Why?”

“Oh I’m sure she’ll feel all special if you apologize to her. There are very little people who can be openly rude to the Archbishop and live to tell the tale after all, so she must be having a very good time right now,” Claude says and seems to fully support his own statement.

Edelgard raises her eyebrow, still suspicious but also curious now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lady Rhea never gets to argue with anyone and I happen to know how much she likes being argued with,” Claude tells her with an air of mischief.

Edelgard looks crestfallen and stares at the ground. “She uh… she was pretty hurt though. I feel really guilty.”

She feels a pat on her shoulder. “Which is why I’m sure your apology will be well received, you’re already putting all this effort in it too” Claude tells her with a smile. “And afterwards she’ll get to bicker with you to her heart’s content again.”

“Are you really sure I’m not just giving her a hard time?” Edelgard wonders, not daring to trust Claude on his word and feel hope she didn’t ruin everything just yet.

“Definitely, yesterday I had tea with her while she spend a good three quarters of an hour complaining about you and I never have seen her look more livelily.”

“Oh, that’s uh… an honor then,” Edelgard says awkwardly, not sure what to make of this bit of information. Rhea really has forty five minutes worth of complaints about her?

“It is,” Claude nods vigorously. “Now, I’ll leave you to your treasure hunt and I’m sure I’ll hear how things went with her tomorrow, Goddess knows she’ll accidently tell the whole place with her aura alone,” he laughs. “The rumors will find me on merit alone.”

“Claude no.”

“Claude yes.”

With that he does a little bow and darts off with a wink, not giving Edelgard anymore opportunity to argue.

With a huff she continues her march down into town again, spotting the market in the distance after only a little further, making her realize Claude subtly led her into the right direction. It takes her a little while but then she finds a stand with art supplies and subsequently buys exactly twenty eight different colors, despite knowing she’d only need thirteen at most for what she has in mind. Just in case, for future projects.

With a spring in her step and a smile on her face she hurries back to the monastery, thinking to herself that maybe Rhea will really feel better with her clumsy attempt to make amends.

It’s an odd thought, her whole life she had been taught the saints were these untouchable and divine beings. Concepts rather than humans, in the sense their image couldn’t be tainted and they couldn’t be hurt. But here she was, having pissed off the most prominent one more times than she could count on her hand and feeling more guilty than anything she had hurt the Saint’s feelings. She hadn’t expected the other woman to make her feel so… special. It wasn’t even the divinity that clung to Rhea that caused Edelgard to feel affected so much, it was more that Rhea made her feel seen.

Perhaps Rhea would truly appreciate her gift...

Before long she’s back at her room and quickly gets to work, opening her books and finding the correct pictures. First attempting to sketch with black and white before settling on poses for her little critters and starting with colors after she’s satisfied.

There is a knock on her door after which Hubert opens it with his elbow and pushes it open while carrying a tray of food. “Thought I’d find you here, it’s nearly eight Edelgard.”

Edelgard scurries to hide her sketches and drawings from her friend, who gives her an odd look as he closes the door behind him.

“Hubert!” she smiles as she places her book atop the pile of papers. “That late huh?”

“I expected you to be sulking in here but you seem to be in a much better mood.”

“I’m working on my apology,” she explains tentatively.

“Can I see?” he asks, looking intrigued as he places the tray with a simple meal carefully on the desk beside her.

“N-no!”

“Well if you’re already too embarrassed to show me I can tell it’s a good apology,” he shrugs, not at all seeming to mind Edelgard’s reaction. “Good apologies make you humble yourself,” he adds with a serious nod.

“Got experience then?” she grins.

Her friend flusters as he glances away, scratching the side of his face as he does. “A bit yes.”

“Hmm, you should tell me about that sometimes.”

“Only if you show me the drawing.”

“Maybe if Lady Rhea hangs them in her office… wait how did you know I’m drawing?”

Hubert looks her in the eye for about two seconds before purposely looking past her, down to her hands, which are covered in gray pencil smudges, to the numerous pencils scattered on her desk and finally to the papers sticking out from underneath the hastily placed book. “Educated guess.”

“Ah.” A small soft escapes her lips. “Yes, alright,” she admits sheepishly.

“Hmm, I’ll leave you to your devices then. I’ll see you in the morning?” Hubert questions her.

“Yes, see you then, oh wait.”

Hubert cocks his head and looks at her questioningly.

Edelgard needs a moment to push away her pride before asking him. “Could you light my lamp for me?”

He seems surprised by her question. “You cannot do so yourself?” he wonders.

“I can!” she insists hurriedly. “It’s just a lot of effort to put in the right amount of focus, last time I burned through all the oil instantaneously and the spell didn’t even take hold… ah, never mind. I shouldn’t ask that of you,” Edelgard mutter in shame. “I should really do these things myself, sorry.”

“No, don’t.” Hubert is next to her in an instant. “Please don’t ever hesitate to ask,” he says as he takes the small oil lamp from her desk. “That’s what friends are for,” he insists.

“Lighting each other’s oil lamps,” Edelgard murmurs with a small smile.

“Exactly.” With a flick of his wrists he lights the flame inside the lamp, his hand only barely glowing purple before orange appears inside the glass. “There,” he says and puts it down again.

She gives him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says before seemingly hesitating for a moment. “Don’t mind me asking but did you spend all these days in the dark after sunset?”

Edelgard immediately flusters. “When it’s too much work, yes. It’s not so bad in summer, it’s still light!” she laughs. “Not every day either, I often I just get a lamp from the dining hall, I even got the spell to work a few times on my own actually. Yesterday I stole a lit one as well.”

Hubert momentarily struggles not to laugh and Edelgard has to admit it’s a little funny as well. He sobers up quickly however. “Please let me come over to light your lamp from now on,” he tells her with a little more vigor than needed.

She would have felt embarrassed if it had been anyone else but him, but he already know about her two Crests, her failure in anything magical and even her newfound weird connection to the Archbishop yet he’s _still_ around, not even bothered by any of those things in the slightest, and this is despite his odd aversion against the church no less.

“You’re a good friend Hubert,” she says softly, choking up a little as she feels more emotional than she anticipated.

Hubert smiles uncharacteristically brightly, looking terribly proud to be Edelgard’s light bringer from now on. “You too.”

With a smile Edelgard sees him off a moment later and comes back to her now lit lamp and happily goes back to work.

It’s hours into the night when she finally feels satisfied with her work, having resorted to two drawings instead of one and hoping Rhea will understand the message.

Smiling again she turns of her light and hopes her attempts will still look good by the morning light. With the ring in her hand she falls asleep minutes later, only slightly nervous for the day to come.

While she had felt terribly uneasy and downright scared about seeing Lady Rhea during the sermon, agonizing over having to make eye-contact with the woman while not being able to speak to her beforehand and fearing being in a crowd with her, Edelgard is very miffed to learn Rhea does not do the sermon today.

“It’s Wednesday,” Hubert tells her and acts as if that explains everything.

“So?” she questions him, trying not to come across as irritated.

“She doesn’t do them on Wednesdays.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” she scoffs.

“They’re _mandatory,_ Edelgard.”

“Right.”

Afterwards she immediately has her morning class with Professor Manuela and her old friend. Edelgard had hoped things would be a little easier now and she’d get through the class mostly unscathed but Manuela takes two steps into the classroom –Dorothea on her tail- spots Edelgard, stares at her vacantly for an instant and promptly breaks into hysterical laughter.

“I’m sorry, I need a moment,” she snickers, already in tears, and excuses herself out of the classroom at once.

Coming back a minute later she takes once glance at Edelgard and leaves the classroom laughing once more.

Third time is the charm and with some effort she manages to hold her laughter this time, though it sets the mood for the rest of the class, along with how the other students treat Edelgard as well, some opting to openly whisper about her each time Manuela fails to keep them silent.

“Did you really tell the Archbishop to blow you?” Dorothea asks her by the end of the class, coming up to Edelgard after nearly two hours of awkward glances.

“Yes Thea, I _did!”_ she snaps in return, no longer being able to take that sentence one more time.

Immediately she regrets it because Dorothea looks at her with a disturbed. “Geez, I’m sorry,” she mutters. “Just what happened to you? You were always brash but never… rude.”

Edelgard feels like crying at once. “I don’t know,” she responds awkwardly.

“Are you trying to get expelled or something? Do you hate it here that much?” her old friend wonders, clearly not at all understanding Edelgard’s motivations.

It reminds Edelgard of her pain from yesterday, remembering how Dorothea and Petra worked so hard to be here while she’s taking everything for granted, and only feels more selfish for having so easily nearly ruined her own future here. “No, I don’t,” she says with a stutter in her voice. “Please… I’m sorry.”

Unable to look her friend in the eye any longer she hurries past her, not even looking back up when she hears her name being called.

She swears she’ll deal with this soon, to find the courage and words to talk to Dorothea and Petra, but she has to tackle one mistake at the time.

After taking a few minutes in her room to calm herself down she gathers her two finished drawings and heads for the Archbishop’s chambers.

Naturally, the guards are giving her a hard time and it’s only after Edelgard dares them to go and ask Lady Rhea to let her in, suggesting that if they’re wrong they’ll get the satisfaction of personally rejecting Edelgard that one of them goes and ask.

She regrets this while she waits because if Rhea is still mad there is a good chance she’ll refuse to see Edelgard and the guards will only trample on her feelings more.

“You may enter,” the guard tells her upon return, looking displeased as he does.

It’s only when she closes the door behind her and steps into the small hall of the Saint’s chamber that Edelgard realizes how incredibly nervous she is.

Her eyes land on Rhea, who is looking at her expectantly.

Oh Goddess, she really just made two fucking drawings for the most powerful woman on the planet like some sort of child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Hubert and Edelgard not entirely traumatized into an emotional stupor and nothing but pragmatism sure is fun. They get to bicker!


End file.
